


caught between forever and nothing at all

by ScreechTheMighty



Series: Talk Some Sense To Me [7]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Choking, F/M, Google Translate Spanish, I realized I should probably establish that now that we're moving into longer plot-heavy fics, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Injury, Mutual Pining, Rated for swearing, Violence, accidental drunkenness, but also the timeline of this game is whack so don't think about it too hard, doesn't follow canon timeline, elliott witt is bad at feelings, latino!Mirage, legends tagged are the most plot relevant ones but others are there too, misunderstanding based ''love triangle'', no beta reader we die like men, roughly takes place at the start of season three, tags to be updated as fic progresses, they're at world's end now is what I'm getting at, wary concern to friendship, wraith is worse at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 54,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: and I'm scared, thinking what we've done / to try tolovesomeoneYou can outrun a lot of things in the games, but you can't outrun your heart. Not forever.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon & Wraith | Renee Blasey, Mirage | Elliott Witt/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Talk Some Sense To Me [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1370614
Comments: 181
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So fair warning, this fic may end getting the "graphic violence" tag later on, but I haven't written the scene yet so I don't know how bad it will end up being. Tags will stay up to date as the chapters are written. Also, IDK if this counts as slow burn because I'm way too impatient for that. Call it medium burn, I guess. OH, and if you're new here, you CAN read all of the "[Talk Some Sense to Me](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1370614)" fics before this one for this to make sense, but "[i've walked with you once upon a dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482652)" and "[i'm the light blinking at the end of the road](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472728)" are probably the only two that are super-duper mandatory reading.

“New meat’s here.”

Elliott looked up from the drink he was making at the sound of Bangalore’s derisive tone. Sure enough, a cluster of Apex Legends newcomers. “Guess they heard this was the place to be,” Elliott said as he passed the drink off to Octane. “Or they’re here to scope out the competition.”

Octane took the drink, nearly dropping it as he wouldn’t take his eyes off the newbies. “How much you wanna bet they all end up NPC’s?”

Elliott cringed at the term. Sure, it was true that a lot of newcomers ended up indebted to the Syndicate and had to keep fruitlessly entering matches in an attempt to pay them off, and that most of them weren’t very _good_ ad thus were good target practice and not actual threats. But you didn’t have to be _rude_ about it.

Bangalore didn’t seem to mind the rudeness and took the question completely seriously. “Don’t know. I’ll have to see them in action.” Her fingers drummed against the side of the bottle. “Not sure I like the look of the big guy.”

“Which one? Meathead?” Elliott tilted his chin towards the tallest guy of the bunch—a guy with a thick jaw, hair cut short, and the eyes of someone who liked to torch small insects with a magnifying glass. “Yeah, he looks aggro. I’d hate to have him on _my_ team.”

“Good thing you’ve got that on lock, huh?” Octane grinned at Elliott. He wasn’t _directly_ saying anything, but Elliott _knew_ what he was wink-winking about. The bastard. “Hey, speaking of…Nat!” Octane stood up and started jumping up and down. “Over here!”

Natalie slipped in behind the group of newbies. Elliott’s smile at seeing her froze when he realized she wasn’t alone. Wraith followed after, like a raven shadowing a canary.

 _Shit_.

It had been a few weeks since Elliott had decided to keep his feelings for her to himself. The bad news? Just because he’d been able to keep his feelings to himself didn’t mean he was getting over her in any meaningful way. His heart still skipped a beat whenever he saw her. Honestly, it was starting to get annoying. _When I said we weren’t going to tell her, that was my cue to **get over her,** not to keep pining._

“Usual?” Elliott asked as the two women as they approached.

“Please!” Natalie said immediately as she sat down next to Octane.. Wraith nodded as well, much more subdued in comparison. To be fair, most people were subdued in comparison to Natalie’s bubbly personality. “How are you tonight?”

“Peachy keen, as always. You?”

“I’m well, thank you! I was working on my interception pylon before I came here…”

Paying attention to Natalie’s excited chatter while also mixing drinks was a bit of a challenge, but he managed. Wraith’s presence made it a lot more difficult, though. _Keep it together, Mirage._

“…and I think it will help with portability without sacrificing structural integrity. But I’ll have to run the changes past the game masters first.”

“Good luck with _that._ I can’t even sneeze on my tech without them making me fill out a novel of paperwork.” That wasn’t an exaggeration, either. “What do you think of the newcomers?”

“I think…” Natalie turned around to look at them, her nose wrinkling slightly. “He looks interesting.” She pointed to the one guy who didn’t seem to be _with the group_ —wiry-looking kid, Asian, really intense eyes, kind of reminded him of Wraith in that respect. “I saw him in the workshop a few times. I think he has a survey drone.”

“ _Yikes_. Fun.” He wondered if that thing would be able to see through his cloak. He’d probably find out at some point. “Were you able to get a good look at it? Learn some trade secrets?”

“ _Non_. I wish I could have. I’ll try again later.” She sipped her drink carefully. “Or maybe you can?”

“Drones aren’t my thing, but I’ll give it a shot.” Couldn’t hurt. Elliott glanced up in time to see the newcomer approaching. “Newbie incoming.”

Everyone went back to their drinks, as if they hadn’t been talking about him. It was difficult to tell the newbie’s build as he approached—the jacket he was wearing could’ve either made a bigger frame look smaller or a smaller frame look bigger. That was probably why he was wearing it. Good fashion choice. Elliott was less sure about the haircut, or the various…were those cybernetic bits on his face? Whatever they were, they made for a _distinctive_ look, but not one Elliott was sure about. _He_ wouldn’t be able to pull it off, that was for sure. The newbie sat down at the bar near Wraith, not looking at anyone directly. “Do you carry Soju?” he asked in a heavily accented voice.

“It’s your lucky day, my friend, we do!” Elliott was able to find the bottle pretty easily. “Even better, they say this tastes like the stuff from back in the Core. Not that I’d know, Frontier baby and all…” He poured the newcomer a glass and slid it in front of him. “…but that’s what I’ve heard. You’re new to the games, right? I’m Elliott. Mirage. I’m sure you’ve heard about me.”

The guy finally made eye contact. His long, cold stare really was giving Wraith’s a run for her money. “I have,” he said. “You are much louder in person. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Bangalore barked a surprised laugh; Elliott was too caught off-guard to be offended. Damn, he was used to getting roasted, but not right out of the gate. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” was the best retort he could come up with. _Shit._ “So, what’s your gimmick, kid? Besides leaving your facepaint on after the rave?”

_Nailed it._

Or not. The guy’s gaze didn’t waver. “I suppose you’ll find out later.” He put his money on the bar, took his drink, and walked away. He muttered something under his breath as he went—it _sounded_ Korean, but then again, Elliott knew two words of Korean that he’d learned when he was fifteen, so it could’ve been anything.

“Cryptic little weirdo, isn’t he?” Elliott said once he was a suitable distance away. “Trying a bit hard if you ask me.”

“You’re just jealous he’s cooler-looking than you,” Octane shot back.

Elliott glared at him. “Oh right, because mister _I fried my hair with bleach_ has any right to judge cool.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. Elliott had definitely seen worse hair, and he had a feeling that some of Octane’s frizziness was from him running his hands through it all the time. But still, he was _not_ going to take coolness advice from a guy who couldn’t keep his roots in check. “Whatever, man.”

Elliott felt the second newcomer’s presence before he actually saw the guy coming. It was Meathead. He was sitting down at the bar, wedging himself between Natalie and Wraith. That set Mirage on edge immediately. It didn’t look like a flirtation move, or at least it didn’t to his well-trained eye. Looked more like a power move. Like he was trying to muscle the regulars—the old time competitors, no less, what kind of gall—from their spots. Bangalore immediately looked ready to throw down. Elliott kind of hoped she would. “You have any real drinks?” asked the big meathead.

“Nah, we specialize in imaginary alcohol,” Elliott said. He’d gotten that question from dudebros too manly for a mixed drink one too many times. The response was second nature to him at this point. “I’m guessing you like a tall glass of vinegar?”

Meathead, needless to say, did not look happy at being sassed. “Beer,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Stout. I thought you were supposed to be a big deal.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow. “Uh...what’s that supposed to mean?” _Don’t you know who I am?_ he was thinking, but he knew that sounded defensive. Showing a weak point just gave them a place to start shooting.

“I mean if you’re some bigshot legend, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Serving you a drink, currently.” Elliott put the bere on the bar and turned his attention to Wraith. “Anyways, did you see the promotional images? Because I’m pretty sure there’s a train.”

“I saw it, too.” Wraith was being casual, or as casual as Wraith ever got, but Elliott could tell she was keeping an eye on the situation. “Could be interesting, tactically speaking.”

“Who do you bet will get run over by it first?”

“So, what’s the deal with the two of you?” interrupted Meathead.

Elliott turned to face the guy; he could’ve sworn he saw Wraith do the same out of the corner of his eye. Near-simultaneous glares; they really had been spending too much time together. “Uh, talking to my team mate, here.”

“Yeah, see, that’s the thing. I don’t see you lot so much in randoms. I used to, but…” Meathead took a long drag from his beer. “So what’s the deal?”

Wraith’s face had gone hard; it was a look that made Elliott bite his tongue and let her potentially handle the newcomer. She gave the guy a long, cold stare, then turned back to Elliott. “I vote Octane,” she said, as if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted.

“Hey! I’m sitting right here!” Octane protested.

“Yeah?” There was the slightest twitch of a smile on Wraith’s lips as she said that. It made Elliott’s heart race. Damn it. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m too fast for the train.”

“You absolutely are not too fast for the train.”

“She has a point,” Natalie said. There was an edge to her voice as she tried to move away from the guy. Bangalore made room pretty quickly, getting up and trading places so now she and Octane were between her and Meathead. “I think it would be less about speed and more about timing.”

“I’m great at timing.”

“ _Sure_ , so you eating dirt when you tried to ride a flyer last season was…what, faked footage?” Elliott said. He could see the guy out of the corner of his eye, looking more pissed by the second that he was being ignored. _Good. Go away._ “Character assassination?”

“At least I wasn’t scared of them, you _baby_.”

“Being scared of things with big talons that nearly carried off _Gibraltar_ is perfectly rational, thank you very much.”

Meathead slammed his bottle down. “Didn’t know they let cowards into the games,” he said, his tone mocking.

 _Oh, my patience is wearing **so** thin right now._ Too bad he hadn’t done anything to warrant getting kicked out. There were few things more satisfying than kicking out assholes. “Listen, buddy, the Legends are talking,” Elliott said. “You want to talk shit, do it with someone who cares. You want another drink or what?”

Meathead stared at Elliott intensely, as if memorizing his face. Then, he picked up his bottle and walked away. “Wow, that guy’s a dick. Hope I can get a few shots in at him.”

“Won’t be difficult to miss,” Wraith observed. Elliott laughed, then immediately hoped he didn’t sound too enthusiastic. Damn, walking this tightrope was hard. “Think he’s taller than Gibraltar.”

“Mr. Gibraltar could beat him,” Natalie said confidently.

“Agreed. Hey, you good?” Elliott asked her. “I know you don’t like people up in your space.”

Natalie didn’t exactly look thrilled, but she did nod resolutely. “I’m okay. I know, he was trying to intimidate me. I’m not going to let him.”

“Atta girl. He’ll regret ever laying eyes on you.” Elliott didn’t doubt that. Natalie was a great kid, and he was pretty sure they were friends now, but he was genuinely freaked at the thought of meeting her in the arena. She was _brutal_. “I hate to be the guy who ends up on a team with him.”

Everything about that guy screamed _trouble—_ maybe even outside of the Arena _._ Elliott made a mental note to keep an eye on him. It was bad enough that he’d have to learn an entirely new map while keeping his latent feelings for his team mate on lockdown. He didn’t want to deal with a potential lunatic on top of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone on tumblr who found Crypto's alias for me! It was super helpful and y'all rule.

Since they didn’t have access to the physical firing range anymore and there wasn’t a new one set up yet, they had to use the simulator pods.

Wraith hated those things.

Once the simulation started, it wasn’t so bad. It was the gap between the pod closing or opening and the simulation starting or ending that got to her—the near-complete darkness, the feeling of being trapped, restrained. She had to use every relaxation trick she’d picked up since escaping to make it through, and even then it was hard.

Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered. Wraith knew the weapons in this game, and figured she could learn the new addition (something called a _pulse rifle_ , modified sniper, used to be anti-Titan if her gun history was right) on the job. But she wanted to see what the newcomers were like. Getting a feel for the competition could give her the edge she needed.

There were a handful of them in there. She hadn’t bothered to learn their names, and mostly knew them by the nicknames Elliott had assigned them at the bar a few nights ago. There was the guy who’d come up for Soju (Drone Guy), a guy whose lankiness gave Octane a run for his money (Shrimpy), a simulacrum in a scarf that looked like a scrap of child’s blanket (Robocop), and the big guy who’d tried to intimidate Natalie (Meathead).

Meathead was the one she was most worried about. He had an aggressive air about him. Guys like him didn’t typically do well. They _thought_ they did, but their habit of running off and picking fights was dangerous—for him, _and_ for his team, depending on what he dragged them into.

Wraith tried to be a good team mate, even if it was with people she didn’t know. But she’d already decided that she would leave his ass behind if he tried that with her.

The fact that he had a habit of talking shit didn’t improve her opinion of him. For example, when the simulacrum mentioned that he was pretty sure that the Mozambique used to be better, Meathead sneered, “ _Used to be?_ How old are you, anyway?”

The simulacrum stared at Meathead. “Older than you, you _infant_ ,” he said with the tone of a teacher sick of the problem student’s behavior. “Not that it matters. I’m pretty modular. I’ll be chilling with the cockroaches during the heat death of the universe if I play my cards right.”

“Which war did you fight in?” asked Drone Guy suddenly. “No one’s used your build for Simulacrum since the Titan Wars and Frontier Wars.”

The simulacrum’s head tilted. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking without a face or an emotion display like Pathfinder. But, when he finally spoke, he sounded impressed. “Frontier Wars. Angel City Elite. Good guess.” He actually set his gun down and leaned over to offer drone guy a hand. “Ashwin Narita."

“Crypto.” Drone Guy—Crypto, apparently—shook the hand carefully, as if worried that the social gesture might be a trap. “Hyeon Kim,” he added clumsily, as if he’d forgotten he didn’t _have_ to go by his stage name.

“You prefer real names or…?”

Crypto shrugged, stepping back to pick up his gun again. “I don’t care.”

“Noted.” The simulacrum—Ashwin—picked up his own weapon. “So, to answer our buddy’s question over there…in my current form, I’m fifty. The original Ashwin Narita was thirty, so if you _want_ to add his age to mine, that makes me eighty…”

“I’m sorry, the what now?” Elliott cut in.

“I’m a _copy_ of a human brain. You wouldn’t call a photocopy of a picture the same picture, right? They just transferred his consciousness, not his soul. So I’m not the original Ashwin, if you really think about it. He’s been dead for fifty years.”

A pause settled over the firing range. Even Meathead didn’t have a response to that. After a long, uncomfortable beat, Ashwin added, “Well, now that we’ve got that moment of existential dread out of the way, do you mind if I snag that barrel stabilizer?” Ashwin pointed to the gold barrel stabilizer sitting on the ground near Elliott. “I wanna get a feel for what this thing can really do.”

“Uhm…yeah. Sure.” Elliott turned to mouth _what the shit_ to Wraith before picking up the barrel stabilizer and passing it over. Ashwin took it and resumed shooting as if he _hadn’t_ said something completely bone-chilling.

Meathead must have been just as rattled by that as everyone else, because he left Ashwin alone. Instead, he focused his attention on Mirage. It was quiet, but obvious: he kept trying to match Elliott’s hits, or do better than him. He was good at close range, but less good at long distances, good enough that Elliott was doing better. The frustration was clear on the guy’s face. Eventually, Meathead put the gun down and shouted, “Okay, so what does it take to get a real fight around here?”

_Oh, boy, here we go._

“Simulation is registering us as being on a team and I don’t think friendly fire is on,” said Ashwin without looking away from the kraber shot he was trying to make.

“Really? How do you know?”

“Did you miss the part where he established that he fought in the Frontier Wars?” Elliott said. “He’s probably seen the inside of more of these things than all of us combined. C’mon, dude, keep up.”

Meathead slowly turned to glare. His grip on the pistol tightened, then started to raise –

Wraith knew this was a simulation, but she could’ve sworn she felt her heart start racing at the sight.

Before she could do anything, Elliott yelped and suddenly vanished. Several of his decoys scattered around him. Wraith took the opportunity to flank left, void-jumping (or the computer’s approximation of doing so) over to Meathead’s side. She had a wingman pointed at his head before she fully thought through the ramifications. “ _Might want to reconsider_ ,” she said, softly, threateningly.

“Yeah, that’s _not_ appropriate handling of a firearm,” added Ashwin. When Wraith glanced his way, he had the gun raised, too. Elliott, meanwhile, was near Crypto, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should get involved. “So point your gun in the right direction or get out. _Bro_.”

“I thought you said friendly fire was on,” Meathead said, staring Wraith right in the eyes.

“ _Well,_ it’ll still hurt. Trust me. I, myself, was only planning to shoot your virtual ear off, but she looks like she means business.” Ashwin’s gun lowered slightly; when he spoke again, he almost sounded amused. “If my memory is correct, being shot in the head _really_ hurts.”

Another existentially terrifying thing to say, but hopefully one that would get through to Meathead. He kept staring Wraith in the eyes as he considered his options. Eventually, he put the gun down, turned around, and walked towards the edge of the firing range.

Somehow, that made Wraith even more nervous than she would’ve been if he’d picked a fight.

“Good seeing you! Damn, what a _weirdo_ that guy was.” Ashwin turned back to shooting; out of the corner of her eye, Wraith noticed Shrimpy go running after him. _Great,_ Meathead was starting to make friends. “Don’t they do a background check these people first?”

“They do,” Crypto replied. “They want men like him. Men like him put on the best show.”

Ashwin sighed. It sounded like a rush of static over a radio. “These _fucking_ games.”

“That’s awfully cynical for a guy who joined up.” Elliott made his way back to his part of the firing range. He sounded shaken, and was definitely trying to cover it up with conversation. “What gives?”

“I need money and this is the best way to get a lot of it fast. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. Trust me, once I hit my target, you won’t see me again.”

Wraith wasn’t surprised to hear that. He wouldn’t be the first person to be in it for the money. He wasn’t wrong: it _was_ probably the best way to get a lot of money fast, if you were confident in your abilities. If he was a veteran of the Frontier War, he must’ve been at least decent.

With Meathead gone, practice went smoothly. She didn’t learn much about Crypto; he avoided using any special abilities and instead seemed to exclusively practice his aim. She did learn a thing or two about Ashwin—namely that he had the mobility of someone with Titan pilot training. Wall-running _and_ heightened jump.

 _Had_ he been a pilot? If so, he’d be someone to keep an eye on. She had never seen one in action, not that she remembered, anyway, but she knew they were the best of the best. Elite soldiers.

Bangalore might know more. _Might have to ask Natalie to talk to her about it._

But that was the only new information she learned from that session. It just made the dread she felt in the space between the simulation ending and her being let out of the machine all the worse—she was feeling that dread for _nothing_ , more or less. She’d really hoped to learn more.

“You good?” Elliott asked her as she climbed out. He knew that she didn’t like those things—always asked if she was okay, the few times she did use the simulators. Part of her appreciated it.

Part of her hated it.

She had been trying, really hard, to keep her feelings under control. The dreams had more or less stopped lately, though there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t start again. Instead, she found herself battling the hyperawareness of every time he looked at her. Every time he smiled at her. Every time he was kind to her. All the simple things that didn’t and shouldn’t have meant anything, and _yet…_

And yet.

Wraith re-lived the memory of him holding her hand in the hospital more times than she cared to admit. She shoved the memory out of her head as she climbed out. “I’m good,” she said. “You shouldn’t keep antagonizing him.”

“Who? Meathead? I’m not _trying to,_ I swear.” He sheepishly ruffled his hair. “It just…happens.”

“Well, try to stop it from happening. He looks unstable enough to do something drastic. You’re already going to have a lot of people gunning for you on a new map. Throwing someone with a vendetta in will just things worse.” Wraith looked around to make sure Meathead wasn’t eavesdropping. He wasn’t, but Ashwin might have been. He was hovering near the door, but kept walking when Wraith stared him down. “Not just for you. For Pathfinder, too, and for me. We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll just…try to avoid him. Won’t be _too_ hard. That guy seriously gives me the creeps.” That was an understatement. “What about the others?”

“The simulacrum could be trouble. I’m not counting out Crypto. He won’t give me anything to work with.” The two newcomers in question had already dispersed by the time they left the room and headed for the hallway. “Natalie find out anything about him?”

“Nah, he keeps going to the workshop at weird hours. He’s shifty. And coming from me…” Elliott laughed, glancing at her as he did. “…that really means something, huh?”

Her heart raced at the sight. Damn it.

Damn him.

“Yeah,” she said, hoping that the mixture of dread and longing that choked her heart didn’t show. “Yeah, it does.”

She just hoped the game masters would open the new map soon. Even if Elliott would be joining her in the area, the fight and the continued search for information— _any_ information—would be enough to keep him off her mind.

She _hoped_ it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more info on Ashwin [over on my blog.](https://screechthemighty.tumblr.com/post/186597956463/so-i-saw-mirage-babeys-legendsonasapex-legends) He's a good egg and I couldn't resist the urge to put him in something. He's also going to be in some of my Titanfall fics, if my Titanfall fics are a thing you read. (Edits made 12/23 to tweak some language.)


	3. Chapter 3

“Did you hear about the new rule for the first match?”

Elliott looked up from his tablet, instinctively pulling it close to his chest. He _had_ been reading a letter from Mom, but made the classic mistake of reading it in a semi-public area where people could bother him and/or read over his shoulder. _Absolutely not._ That was private correspondence. “What?” he asked.

Natalie opened her mouth to speak again; of course, that was when Elliott _actually_ registered what she said, and interrupted before she could clarify: “No, I didn’t hear about that. What’s happening?”

“It’s going to be randomly assigned teams only. No picking your team mates. I thought you should know.”

Elliott’s heart sank. “…yeah. Yeah, thanks for telling me. Uh, you gonna be good?” Natalie liked her routines; he just wasn’t sure if team mates counted as _routine_. She’d done a few randoms, but that didn’t necessarily mean she _liked_ it.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “Octavio is excited. He wants to get teamed up with one of the new people, see what they’re made of.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Suddenly, Elliott wasn’t sure he wanted to be in public. “Hey, I just remembered I’ve gotta…do something with my suit. We’ll talk at dinner, yeah?”

“Oh. Okay!” Natalie nodded and moved on to talk to Bangalore. Elliott hoped, for half a second, that he hadn’t brushed her off too roughly. He knew that kind of thing could be tough for her.

_Apologize later, talk to Wraith now._

Elliott didn’t know why _that_ was his first instinct—only that it _was._ He should probably talk to Pathfinder, especially because Pathfinder was a genuinely terrifying force of technology and it would _not_ hurt to ask him to take it easy, maybe. But all he could focus on was telling Wraith. It was stupid and irrational and definitely went against his plan of _being cool_ , but he couldn’t help it. They’d never _really_ gone up against each other before, not even in singles; it had always been dumb luck at first, then careful planning on Elliott’s part (and maybe hers, he’d never bothered to ask). But everyone was expected to take part in the day-one matches, especially the popular legends, which meant there was no backing out, and since there was a non-zero chance they’d end up squaring off against each other…

_I’ve got to talk to her._

He was so single-minded in his purpose that he almost missed that someone else had boarded the orbital elevator to their ship after him. It wasn’t until the other person spoke up that he realized. “So, I have a personal question.”

Elliott jumped back. It was the simulacrum…Ash? Andrew? Something with an A, he honestly couldn’t remember. The fact that the dude like dropping philosophically terrifying thought bombs was the biggest impression he’d left on Elliott. “Uh…” Elliott looked around the elevator. “For me?”

“You’re the only one here, kid.” It was amazing how a computerized voice could sound so amused…then again, he _had_ been human once. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, I’m just curious.”

To be honest, Elliott wasn’t really in the mood for personal questions. But he also didn’t want to let on that he wasn’t in the mood for personal questions. _Stay casual, Witt._ “Okay,” Elliott said, leaning against the wall and making eye contact (kinda). “Shoot.”

“Does the name _Jack Cooper_ ring a bell?”

Playing it cool went _right_ out the window at that moment. “Uh…” Elliott straightened up carefully. “Maybe. Why?”

“I knew him. _Know_ him. I mean, we haven’t talked in a while, but I knew him during the Frontier Wars. He’s good people.”

Elliott’s gut felt like it was twisting into knots. He wasn’t sure if it was still his nerves about the randoms-only match, or if it was because of the sudden, unexpected reminder of his extended family. Especially _that_ particular family member. “Yeah. He’s…” Elliott tried to play it casual. “My…uncle, kinda. My dad’s cousin.”

“I knew it! You’ve got the same eyes. Must be a family thing.” Elliott believed it; he’d been told he looked a lot like his father, not that he’d know from firsthand experience. He always saw his mother’s features more than his father’s, but he definitely didn’t have Mom’s eyes. Those were Dad’s eyes—eyes he got from _Abuela_ , that a lot of Dad’s siblings and cousins had. “How’s he been? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

 _No idea, seeing how last time I saw him I yelled at him and we haven’t spoken since_ …

“He’s good,” Elliott half-lied. “I mean…you know Jack, he’s always good.” That was how Elliott remembered him, at least; perfectly _content_ in a way you didn’t see often. Even when he got that tired look in his eyes, he could find a bright spot to life. That was why it was only a half-lie; even if he hadn’t spoken to his sorta- _Tio_ in a while, he could pretty safely assume that he was doing okay. “What, were you Militia?” He was pretty sure the guy had already said that in the simualation, but much like his name, that information was lost to the _garbage memory_ void.

“Nah, Angel City Elite. Mercenaries, but we collaborated with the Militia a lot. Cooper and I were both pretty close to Barker, before…”

The heavy pause that followed that sentence caught Elliott’s attention. “Wait, before what? What happened to Barker?”

A-Name Simulacrum’s head tilted. “You didn’t hear? He passed, like…two years ago.”

The news hit Elliott harder than he thought it would. He hadn’t been _close_ to Barker or anything—honestly, he didn’t know him too well as a _person_. He just remembered him as the guy who was sometimes around back when he lived on Harmony with Jack’s family, who always smelled faintly of nicotine vapors and ship fuel, who talked like he’d been punched in the throat at some point, who had once bribed Elliott with ten dollars not to tell Mom he’d said _fuck_ in front of him and who’d taught him a few songs on the guitar. He was gruff, but… _nice_. Or he always had been to the kids. Never brushed them off or treated them like they were annoying, treated them like adults, more or less. Elliott hadn’t seen or thought of him in years, but…

“I didn’t… _shit_. No way.”

“Yeah.” A-Name Simulacrum (Elliott was 99% sure it was Ash, he _really_ thought it was, or something close to that) sounded somber. “He was…yeah.”

“What happened? He wasn’t even that old, I don’t think.” He’d _seemed_ old in Elliott’s memories, but that was from a time when anyone over forty was old. A lot of people from Jack’s circles had seemed old before their time, anyway. War had that affect on people.

“76. Almost 77. But, y’know, he drank like a fish for a while, long-term health problems were almost inevitable…between that and his military service, I think it all just…finally caught up to him. Did you know him?”

“Kinda. I mean…he knew Jack, so I knew him. He was pretty chill with me.” He actually _listened_ to Elliott’s ramblings; never once made a big deal out of the stutter, now that he thought about it. “My mom told me to take his advice with a grain of salt, though. Or…the whole brick. _A whole brick_ were her exact words.”

Ash (?) snorted. “Yeah, his coping mechanisms were garbage. We loved him, though.” The elevator stopped, doors swishing open. “He was okay with it, if that helps. I mean, as okay with dying as anyone can be. Got to make his peace with everyone before he went. That was the last time I saw Coop. I think he took it hard. I’m glad to hear he’s doing better.”

It wasn’t often Elliott felt bad about lying to a complete stranger, but he felt _real_ bad about it now. “Well, you know him, he’s…resilient.” That was definitely true; Elliott just didn’t know how well that applied to losing a friend. “He might be pissed at you if you shoot me, though.” That was _definitely-_ definitely true, no doubts about it.

Ash (?) laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I asked. Just wanted to be sure I should avoid you as much as possible. He is _not_ a guy I want to piss off. Hey, be careful out there.”

“You, too.” The niceties slipped out without Elliott thinking about it—then again, there was always a kind of dark humor that came with those social conventions. _I know we’re going to be shooting at each other in a few days, but hey, have a good one!_ “I won’t rat you out if you _do_ end up shooting at me.”

That got another laugh out of Ash(?). “Appreciate it!”

Elliott almost regretted that the conversation was over. Sure, it had been uncomfortable and kind of sad, but it was taking his mind off of the _other_ shit racing through his mind. He shoved the thought away and bee-lined it through the cruiser to Wraith’s quarters.

The ship was huge—refurbished battle cruiser, apparently, something the Syndicate had gotten their hands on and turned into a fun little toy box to keep all their legends and the equipment for the games in while they were moving arenas. They were still setting up the headquarters on the planet surface—common rec areas, space for the training sims, place to give press conferences, all that kind of thing were more or less finished, but no living quarters. So, for now, they had to live with the metallic and too-clean air of the cruiser.

Elliott had done everything he could to make his quarters on the ship _and_ his space on the drop ship more homey. It wasn’t working, not really. He _hated_ it on that thing. Didn’t help that he was trying to hang around Wraith less and less, so he didn’t have the distraction of friendly company to keep him from going stir-crazy on this metal death trap. He hadn’t even _seen_ what her new room looked like.

_Probably exactly the same as her old one, just on a ship._

Elliott doubted himself more and more with every step he took. He almost hoped he’d get lost so he’d have an excuse to quit, but there were too many maps for that. When he found himself in front of her room (helpfully labeled with just her stage name, the only name _anyone_ knew her by), he reconsidered again. He could walk away, right now. She didn’t have to know he’d come all the way up here. She wouldn’t have to question why he’d come back onto the ship, a place where he tried to spend as little time as possible, just to tell her something that she probably already knew…

His hand knocked the door before he could stop himself.

_Wait, shit, **no!**_

Too late.

Before Elliott could make a run for it, the door opened. Wraith stood there, dressed in the exact same grey sweater and casual pants that she always wore off-hours. “…hey,” she said.

She looked good today. Not good as in _pretty_ (though she did look pretty, always), good as in she looked like she’d slept for a change. That was good, that meant she was doing okay… _no, focus, Elliott, focus._ “Did you hear about the first match?” he asked.

_No, bad. Bad. Should’ve opened with a hello._

“Yeah, I heard.” Wraith sighed, glanced down the hallways, and stepped aside. “Here, you should come in.”

_Oh, shit, abort mission, abort._

But he couldn’t back out now. So, he stepped inside. Just as he’d thought, her room looked exactly like the old one, just on a ship. The lack of windows made her complete lack of personal affects even _more_ heartbreaking. “You know we can’t agree to a ceasefire without getting in trouble,” she said. She stayed standing, her arms crossed, face all business. “But I’m pretty sure you knew that already.”

“…yeah. Yeah, I know that, I guess I just, uhm…” Why had he come up here, again? He didn’t know. “I guess I just, y’know, wanted to make sure you were okay with this. It’s kind of a lot, I mean, we haven’t really…”

Wraith shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s just a game. No hard feelings.” She sighed and massaged her left hand, a gesture he saw her do a lot. “There’s going to be twenty teams out there. We probably won’t even see each other.”

“Yeah. Yeah. P-probably.”

_Joke. Make a joke. You’re being weird and quiet. Make a joke, quick!_

“Honestly, I’m more worried about Pa-about Path than you. At least, uhm, at least you’ll hesitate before you kill me.” He tried to smile. “He will kill me without hesitation. Even if he keeps insisting I’m his best friend.”

Only one stutter. Nice. The victory was short lived because, unfortunately, Wraith actually found the comment funny, and actually laughed a bit, and Elliott swore he felt his heart stop. “I don’t think he has a concept of mortality,” she said. “You might want to have a word with him about avoiding shooting you in the face.”

“…yeah! Yeah, that’d suck if he did. I mean, not that I’m not a _little_ beat up, but y’know, this is uh, this is an accept…acceptab…this is an okay amount of scars. Makes me looks rugged. Not…like ah, uh…” Every word flew out of his head. Shit. Damn it. No.

“Frankenstein?” Wraith said gently.

“ _Yeah_ , that’s it.” He wasn’t even going to try and say that word. “Uh, anywho. Yeah. I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him to avoid your face, too.”

_Shut up, Elliott!_

Fortunately, if Wraith noticed he was rambling, she didn’t seem impatient. “Thanks for that.” She paused, then glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at him. “I…I was actually going through some files…”

 _Shit. “_ Yeah, no, I’ll leave you to it. Sorry, I just kinda burst in here…”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, but he just wanted to get out of this conversation before he said something _really_ stupid. “I’ll…see you later?”

“Yeah. See you.”

He hoped he didn’t walk too quickly out of the room. He felt like running down the hall, but forced himself to walk at a regular pace until he was a safe distance away.

 _Oh, shit. Oh, that went horribly. Shit._ Elliott buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. _Stupid, stupid, **stupid** , this is **exactly** what you were trying to avoid. What does she think of me now?_

He didn’t know.

It probably wasn’t good, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think Elliott's bad at emotions, wait until you see Wraith next chapter. (Also changes made 12/23 to add on a sentence and change some of the swearing.)


	4. Chapter 4

The first match was tomorrow. And, of course, Wraith couldn’t sleep.

The dreams weren’t keeping her awake. Part of her wished it was that simple. She’d be able to handle nightmares, even nightmares about the hospital, or those vague dreams where she didn’t remember anything but she woke up with a scream in her throat and the certainty that it had been something terrible. No, the thing keeping her up was Elliott, and the conversation they’d had two days ago.

He’d seemed so nervous. He probably thought she hadn’t noticed, but she had. It was plain as day, and she couldn’t stop thinking about why.

 _Does he think I’ll hurt him?_ She might have to, of course, that was a risk. But she would never… _hurt_ him. She’d sooner run away first, or make it quick if she absolutely had to. She could let _him_ take the victory, but she knew that he didn’t have it in him, that he’d never be able to do it, so push came to shove, it would be better if she drew first blood…

But then again, would _she_ be able to?

How would he look at her if she could?

And why did she _care_ about that so much?

Wraith huffed angrily and buried her face in her pillow. This was a nightmare in and of itself. She couldn’t make herself stop thinking about it. About how she’d laughed when she shouldn’t have and let herself feel comfortable, even if only for a few seconds. About how strange, but touching it was that he’d thought to talk to her first. How he smiled when he joked about Pathfinder, and how much she liked seeing that smile.

How she couldn’t shut him out, no matter how much she wanted to.

She was better than this. She’d distanced herself from plenty of people before. Why not him?

The question hung over her head as she rolled over and tried to sleep. She breathed slowly, in and out, trying to relax. Wraith wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it didn’t take _too_ long for her to realize that wasn’t working. She was too energized, full of nerves about the upcoming match and racing thoughts about that conversation, about Elliott Witt and his stupid smile.

At this point, there was no way she was going to sleep. So she got up, threw on some shoes, a sweater, and her gloves, and slipped out of her room.

The only people awake at this hour were the MRVNs and a few other cleaning robots—and maybe Octane, but if he was awake, she didn’t see him. He was probably in his room playing video games. They were the only thing outside of the games that seemed to hold his attention. Wraith picked a direction and started walking. Maybe she could wear herself out and finally _rest._ She’d need all the sleep she could get if she wanted to do well tomorrow.

To try and block out the memories of Elliott Witt smiling at her, Wraith ran over what she knew about the location—the potential risks, where the good loot might be, which areas would likely be high-kill areas. There were already more environmental factors to deal with, though only time would tell if the lava was more or less dangerous than the flyers and leviathans had been. That was what she needed—time to observe matches, run a few herself. But she didn’t have that. Then again, neither did anyone else. It was probably going to be a bloodbath while everyone got used to the new map.

_But that’s what the people want, isn’t it?_

Wraith was so lost in thought that she almost missed that there _was_ someone else awake.

 _in front of you_ , whispered a voice.

Wraith stepped to the side, pressing her back against the wall, squinting through the ship’s low light to try and see who was there. The figure was wearing a lot of black, but it looked like…

 _crypto_ , added one of the voices.

The voices, as always, were right: it was Crypto, moving through the hallways with a gait that could only be described as _lurking_. What was he doing awake? Wraith frowned and pushed off the wall. Maybe he couldn’t sleep, either. His under-eye bags gave hers a run for their money. “Late night?’ she called up ahead to him on impulse.

Crypto’s head shot up. Wraith couldn’t help feeling a little guilty—she knew what it was like to be that startled. “Sorry,” she apologized. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“…me either.” Crypto sounded as clumsy and unsure as he had when introducing himself to Ashwin. Must not have been used to small talk. Wraith could relate. “You should be more careful. Might get shot if you keep sneaking up on people like that.”

“They don’t allow weapons on the ship.”

Crypto huffed a quiet laugh. “You really think anyone follows that rule?”

She didn’t. She knew _she_ kept a knife on herself at all times, so if _she_ was breaking that rule, there was a good chance everyone else was. “You should be careful, too. They don’t know you around here. Everyone’s got their eyes on the new guys.”

Wraith wasn’t sure why she said that. She wasn’t _unfriendly_ to the newcomers, never wanted to be, but she didn’t go out of her way to be nice to them, either. Her gut said that it was a thing that needed saying, though, and if there was one thing Wraith was good at, it was trusting gut feelings.

Still. This was… _weird._ And that was saying something, coming from her. Crypto looked just as confused as Wraith felt. “…thank you for the advice.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he walked past her, hands in his pockets, side-stepping her as if afraid she’d take a swing at him.

Wraith knew a thing or two about being cagey. This guy made her look like a perfectly sane and non-paranoid. Something was up, something even beyond him having an unexpected conversation with her, and she wasn’t sure what.

_Does it really affect me?_

Normally, she’d say no. She figured that most people had some shit going on in the games; as long as it didn’t affect her in the arena, it was none of her business. But this time she felt…drawn to him wasn’t the right word. She just had a feeling.

But she’d never had a _feeling_ about anyone before, not right off the bat. It had taken her a while to get comfortable with Elliott and Pathfinder, and longer still to start having dreams about the former. This was… _sudden._

_Do I know him? Or **did** I know him?_

Wraith almost thought about following him. But before she could…

 _you’ll just spook him_.

That was probably true. Wraith kept going on her walk, but by that point, her thoughts were so fractured that she couldn’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. The map. Elliott. Crypto. Potential risks. Elliott’s smile. Did she know Crypto? Who the most dangerous competitor might be. Maybe that was why she’d felt so strange about Crypto, because he was dangerous. She wanted to see Elliott again.

That wasn’t happening. She even took a roundabout way back to her space to avoid walking past his room. Just in case her sleep deprivation drove her to do something stupid, like wake him up whatever awful hour it was and spill her guts about how she felt.

_Definitely not doing that._

She didn’t have any sleeping pills left over after the last time she’d needed them—and even if she did, she’d learned her lesson after _that_ hospital visit. She’d have to make do with trying breathing exercises again and hoping that it worked. She stopped her bathroom to get a drink and check her mirror. “You gonna explain yourself?” she asked her reflection irately.

Nothing.

Of course not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is mostly finished, so hopefully I'll be able to crank that one out soon! I made the mistake of writing more fight scenes. There's going to be more fight scenes in this fic, too. Why do I do this to myself. (Edited 12/23 to fix some formatting weirdness and streamline a sentence.0


	5. Chapter 5

Today was going to suck. He could tell already.

First, they’d stuck him on a ship going through turbulence, which Elliott hated more than the IMC. He’d spent pretty much the whole trip nervous-rambling, which was _not_ a great look. All of this culminated first in him actually doing finger guns and saying _wink_ out loud with his mouth to cap off a joke, and then almost immediately after, as if the universe itself were punishing him for that crime against humor, he found himself in an armlock courtesy of Crypto.

To be fair, that was partially on Elliott. He should’ve known better than to touch the guy. He wasn’t going to apologize for trying to talk to him (he’d just wanted to know if Crypto had heard anything about who might have taken down the tower back home), but actually resting a hand on his shoulder was a) invasive and b) just a bad move overall, seeing how he didn’t know exactly what level of _cold-blooded killer_ Crypto was.

If his aim was anything like his ability to effortlessly put a guy into an arm lock, the answer was _high, very high level of cold-blooded killer._

Fortunately, Elliott’s pride was hurt worse than his shoulder—though that _did_ kind of sting. He didn’t have time to worry about it, though; instead, he focused his attention on the screens announcing their team ups.

 _Mirage._ Okay, that was him.

 _Lifeline._ Not who he wanted, but he’d take it.

_Crypto._

“… _seriously?!_ ”

So, yeah. Screw this match.

* * *

Wraith was on edge.

Last night still wore on her mind. Having to listen to the object of her frustrations ramble on ( _endearingly_ popped to mind, but she suppressed that thought as quickly as she could) didn’t help. Octane being even more of a caged gremlin on stims than usual _really_ didn’t help.

“ _Won’t be so tough with just one of your boyfriends, hermanita!_ ” he called across the ship to her.

“ _You wanna shut your mouth?!_ ” Wraith snapped back.

Natalie, almost immediately, rested a hand on her arm. “Don’t listen to him. We have to focus on winning.” A light flashed on her wrist-mounted map. “I’m the jumpmaster!”

Well, at least that was one decision Wraith didn’t have to worry about. Pathfinder kept bouncing in place as he peered out of the ship, only stopping to give her a thumbs-up. She returned it, weakly.

The cloud cover was thick in places, the air freezing this high up. Snow whipped through Wraith’s hair as she peered down to the new arena. She’d seen all the pictures in the briefing, of course, but actually seeing it in person was something else entirely.

_That’s a lot more open space than King’s Canyon._

The voices weren’t saying much, so when Natalie suggested they land in one of the lava-heavy areas, Wraith agreed. That meant staying on the ship, long enough to see Elliott get practically pushed out of it by Lifeline as they headed towards the Epicenter.

Good. That was good. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

* * *

Things did _not_ improve after Lifeline threw them out of the ship and to the ice explosion area.

Okay, they kind of improved. He was able to get three kills in while they were there, find some decent loot, show off a _tiny_ bit. Things went downhill again when they ventured into the nearby city, got cornered in one of the buildings, and Elliott got shot in the leg. He lost track of where Crypto had gone; he’d said something about _putting eyes in the sky_ and stepped away before they’d been ambushed. Now he'd vanished into the ether while some repeat low-tier player tried to get lucky against Lifeline’s shield.

“New guy better not mess up my stats,” Elliott grumbled, his mouth again moving without him really considering the words, “or my awesome hair…”

Crypto stepped out from behind one of the pillars.

 _Oh, there he was_.

What followed happened quickly, but that was part of what made it impressive. Crypto, armed with a wingman and the most casual walk Elliott had ever seen in a gunfight, stepped forward. There was a sizzling of electricity in the air as his drone did—was that an EMP attack?!—knocking out the enemy team’s shield and leaving the wide open for Crypto to take the shot.

Which, he did.

A few seconds later, they were in the clear.

“That’s _seven_ ,” Crypto said casually.

 _“New kill leader appointed_ ,” chimed in the announcer lady.

Elliott was glad the new guy was on his team.

But also? Screw Crypto and his cool slo-mo walk.

* * *

There was one upside to all of this: Wraith got to sock Octane in the jaw and help Natalie kick his shit-talking loudmouth idiot ass straight into lava.

He got out, just barely. But he didn’t get far before Pathfinder finished the job. Wraith tried not to get too much enjoyment out of the _combat_ part of the games, but she’d be lying if she said that didn’t feel a little good. It helped to know that Octane would be fine. He had more than enough to cover his medical care. She’d be seeing him again.

_Unfortunately._

They had to keep moving from there. There were enemies everywhere and it seemed like, for all the open space this place had, it was _very_ easy to suddenly find yourself in an area with two or more squads duking it out. They ran into that exact situation as they finished looting the thermal station and kept moving up the western side of the map. They were pinned down, and could barely go anywhere without walking into the crossfire of the dueling squads.

“There’s a train coming!” Pathfinder called.

He was right; Wraith could hear it, too. “Can you get a zipline onto the tracks?” she asked.

Pathfinder could, just barely. They zipped up from their location and onto the tracks, just in time to jump onto the tail end of the train as it raced by. Good news; there were crates on board, ones that hadn’t been opened, maybe even _good_ loot.

Bad news.

_you're being aimed at._

Wraith turned around and raised her weapon.

What she saw made her stomach sink.

_Oh, no._

* * *

From the city, they hopped on board the train. Honestly, the train was cool. Elliott liked the train. He left Crypto and Lifeline up front to try and figure out the controls while he kept an eye on the last supply bins on the ship. They’d left those alone; figured they’d make a good trap.

They did. But the ducks that ended up in said trap were the _last_ people he wanted to see.

 _Oh, no, oh, no, no, no_.

Wraith. Pathfinder. Natalie.

Elliott’s stomach dropped immediately. His terror at the sight only increased when Wraith whipped around, her gun raised, a fierce look in her eyes. She froze when she saw him.

_Oh, shit, oh, shit, what do I do, what do I do, what do I…_

The question was answered not by her or Pathfinder or Natalie opening fire, but by the sight of a figure racing towards the ship. He thought it was Octane first, because of the speed, but whoever it was, it was too bulky to be Octane.

_Was that Meathead…?_

The figure jumped. Elliott scrambled back, yelping in alarm, because _what the actual hell_ , the dude lept like a _gorilla_. Wraith turned around in time to see the figure coming straight towards her. She barely phase-shifted away, with Pathfinder barely managing to get his grappling hook out in time.

Natalie…was not so lucky.

She didn’t get _crushed_ , just knocked off her feet when Meathead landed on the last car. He then immediately grabbed her shirt and threw her off the train as if she were a stuffed toy he didn’t want to play with anymore.

That left Pathfinder hanging off the edge of the train by his grappling hook, Wraith out of sight, and Elliott sitting out in the open with Meathead apparently in crazy mode.

Then Meathead turned to look at him.

_Oh f-_

And _then_ the train stopped.

The sudden motion knocked Elliott down off his perch, sending him sprawling onto the ground on the other side of the tracks. He rolled a bit and came to a stop, wheezing from a sudden loss of air in his lungs. He thought he heard footsteps coming close, but they were cut off by gunshots. “ _Hey!_ ” Wraith shouted. “ _Over here!_ ”

_No, no, no, Wraith, whatever you’re doing, don’t…!_

Elliott coughed, struggling to get back up. He finally managed to take a deep breath, coughing furiously afterward, scrambling for his gun. _Where is it, where…?!_ He grabbed it, aimed it. Saw that Wraith and Meathead had moved a good distance away, close to the edge of the map.

Wraith was trying, but it looked like Meathead had a purple body shield upgrade. Elliott could see the flashes of light as her bullets struck him. He tried to aim, but she was right next to Meathead, and he couldn’t risk hitting her, even though he could because they technically weren’t on the same team, but he’d never forgive himself if he did…

“ _Mirage!_ ”

Elliott turned, just in time to see one of the other newbies rushing over. _He_ didn’t have a purple body shield, and went down quickly. By the time Elliott turned back around, Meathead had actually managed to grab Wraith and was…

_Throwing her off a cliff?!_

“ ** _Wraith!_** ”

* * *

Of all the ways she expected this to go, she didn’t expect to be picked up and _thrown_.

Wraith thought for sure she was dead—thick fog covered the valleys between the new arena and the other parts of this world, and she didn’t know if there would be more lava or an ocean or just sheer rock meeting her at the bottom. Fortunately, she hit something—a ledge—far sooner than she expected, and managed to scramble to stay on it.

 _Unfortunately_ …

 _“Please return to battle_ ,” chirped a message on her map interface. “ _Please…_ ”

_Shit!_

There was no way she was going to lose this match because she’d been _disqualified_. She could handle being shot, but this was _humiliating_. Wraith scrambled to try and climb back up. She even tried throwing a portal, but two phase shifts in short succession earlier and the impact of the fall left her weak. The portal was only partially able to get her up the cliff face, onto a much more precarious ledge. She could hear gunfire up above, but she focused on climbing.

All she did was slide back down.

 _“Please return to battle. Please return to battle. Please…_ ”

The message was replaced by a soft blare. “ _You have been disqualified. Please hold your position and an extraction team will_ – “

“ ** _Shit!_** ”

Wraith let herself slide back down onto the ledge. Shit, shit, _shit_. She couldn’t believe she’d let Meathead get the drop on her like that. Couldn’t believe that _this_ was how she lost. She didn’t even know what had happened to Natalie or Pathfinder—would they be okay without her? They needed her for this match, and she’d let them down in the _stupidest_ way.

Wraith looked up in time to see someone looking down at her.

It was Elliott.

He looked stricken. There was a scrape on his face, probably from the tumble he’d taken when the train stopped. She wasn’t sure what to say. He kept staring down at her with this _look_ on his face, as if he’d expected to see her dead and was _relieved_ that she wasn’t…

“ _Mirage! Come on!_ ” called Lifeline from somewhere up above.

Elliott glanced over his shoulder, then back down at Wraith, then turned and ran.

Wraith sighed heavily. Great. To top it all off, he’d had to see her like that. That made the already shit situation seem worse. She buried her face in her hands in a vain attempt to suppress an already-forming headache, and waited for the extraction ship to come.

She just hoped they would get there before the ring did.

* * *

The whole thing had been a shitshow from start to finish. Wraith was alive, sure, but he was pretty sure Natalie wasn’t doing very good (he’d seen Pathfinder run back to her, but had lost track of then during the fight), and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel a bit queasy. Elliott was honestly glad to see some easy pickings jump onto the train after they got back on, having taken care of Meathead (RI-freaking-P, dickhead) and made a run for it. They’d take his mind off things.

Or at least, he’d been happy to see some easy pickings until that kill-stealing bastard _Crypto_ went and took them out.

“ _Hey!_ Those were _mine!_ ” Elliott yelled.

He regretted opening his mouth the second Crypto aimed a charge rifle at him.

Panic set in. Yep, it finally happened. He’d run his mouth off at the wrong person and they were turning on him and he was a goner. This was it. This was how he died. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid, it’s me!” he yelped, unsure of what to do or where to go. “It’s the old man!”

“ _Behind!_ ” called Lifeline behind him.

Elliott turned. As he did, he just stepped out of Crypto’s line of fire. Which was great, because Caustic had come in from _nowhere_ and was charging him.

 _Was._ One shot from the charge rifle took care of _that._ Not that this gave him _any_ time to relax, because suddenly there were rockets raining from above (he thought someone had taken care of Bangalore, what the _hell_ ) and Crypto was grabbing him and running for it. “I thought you were gonna kill me!” Mirage gasped.

“ _Don’t be an idiot!_ ” Crypto shouted as he shoved Mirage away from the ensuing explosion.

Mirage’s ears were ringing and he wasn’t sure if Crypto could hear him. That didn’t stop him from shouting back: “ _I’m not an idiot!_ ”

Right. Because that was _super_ convincing.

* * *

The evac team picked her up right before the ring moved in. It wasn’t long before Wraith found herself deposited at the hospital, along with a whole slew of other legends who either had their respawns time out or who had tapped out. She didn’t see any sign of Pathfinder or Natalie, but a quick glance at the screen confirmed that they had both been taken out. Ring closed in, they didn’t have time to get away.

_Son of a **bitch**. _

“Ms. Wraith, ma’am.” One of the nurses was at her elbow. “We should take a look at…”

“I’m good,” Wraith said, not taking her eyes off the display screens.

“Ma’am, your shoulder looks dislocated. We need to…”

“I’m _good,_ ” Wraith snapped.

The nurse looked like she was going to fight with her about it, but was distracted by another legend coming in who was in much worse shape than Wraith was. That was fine by her. That gave her space to keep watching the match.

She wasn’t sure why she was watching. She didn’t usually watch matches once she was out, but today, she was _glued_ to that screen. Elliott was still in the match. Lifeline was limping a bit after the incident on the train, but he had a full team.

Her hands were shaking. She crossed her arms, clutching at her arms.

_Don’t do anything stupid, don’t do anything stupid, Elliott, please…_

The fight culminated in one of the urban areas. They had resorted to tossing grenades into the window, trying to scare the enemy team out. Elliott cloaked and ran in the building in a last-ditch effort to score the win. Wraith’s chest suddenly felt tight. She could see flashes in the window of gunshots, and then…

 _The winner has been decided_.

Elliott’s team had won.

Still, she didn’t let herself breathe until she saw Elliott come running out of the building, his face a mask of exhilaration and relief. Lifeline actually hugged him; Crypto held back, but leaned over as if catching his breath when he thought the others weren’t looking. He straightened up immediately when Elliott ran over; they had _some_ kind of exchange, which lead to Elliott rolling his eyes, looking around until he spotted a camera, and giving it a big thumbs-up.

Then. _Then_ she could let herself breathe.

Wraith tried not to think too hard about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to match up locales to my mental image of this scene to the trailer scenes felt like that Kronk "you've got me, by all accounts it doesn't make sense" meme, but listen...I did my best. (Edits made 12/23 to tweak some language.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, all! My brain went into Complete Slug Mode and I haven't been productive with ANYTHING. It's frustrating as heck. Hopefully season four will get some of my Apex Writing Muse back.

In the immediate aftermath of the win, Elliott was completely stoked. His heart was racing so fast he thought for sure he might drop dead from the adrenaline rush, but hey, they’d _won._ They’d won despite some pretty serious setbacks and put on one hell of a show, which definitely made them look good in the eyes of the Syndicate. Never a bad thing.

All those happy thoughts were thrown to the side of the road when, without warning, memories of what happened to Wraith slapped him across the face like a wet towel.

Was he still happy he’d won? Absolutely. But the gnawing concern was making it hard to enjoy himself. He was worried about Natalie and Pathfinder too, sure, but…well, Pathfinder was modular and Nat wasn’t… _Wraith._

_You shouldn’t have favorites with your friends, Elliott._

_Yeah, but Wraith’s not…_

Okay, nope, they were not going to think about that right now. Especially not when they were like five minutes from landing and about to face rpoters. He had to answer questions, act like he was cool and knew what he was doing, and _then_ he could peace out. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long. You never knew with post-match interviews.

He was able to get through the interviews okay—though Crypto bolted the second he could, the bastard. Didn’t even try to take some of the questions. Elliott hoped he wasn’t as externally jittery as he was internally. His hands felt like they were shaking. Good thing he could always pass that off as adrenaline. _That_ was still running high.

Once he was able to wrangle himself away from the reporters, he made a beeline for the medical center. His hands didn’t stop shaking the entire time. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Wraith had definitely been disqualified, but she was _alive._ It wasn’t like that time that she’d split off from the group and gotten shot (the time he held her hand and then had a panic attack about how worthless he was…fun memories, that). She was, at worst, still rattled and jittery from the ring getting her, and at best maybe a little beat up from the fall. But she’d been intact enough to swear when he saw her last, so she was fine.

_Totally fine_.

There were a lot of folks who weren’t, though. Most of them had been shuttled off to private rooms by now, but a few were still sitting in the waiting area looking varying degrees of trash. A lot of them had that look about them that you got when the ring got you: pink-faced, dazed, some leaning over like they were about to throw up, burst vessels in the eyes. It was a horrible feeling. Elliott had never asked Natalie what exactly the ring was or how it worked, but he could definitively say that it hurt like a motherfucker.

Speaking of…

“Nat!” Elliott jogged over to her. She was sitting in a chair with most of her gear off, looking a bit queasy and wearing a wrist brace, but more or less okay otherwise. “Hey, you good?”

“I’m doing better. Just waiting to hear about Octavio.” She held up her wrist and made a face. “I fractured some ribs and my wrist.”

“ _Yikes_. Yeah, he threw you pretty hard.” At least broken bones were a fairly easy fix. “How’s, uh, how’s Wraith doing?”

“I don’t know. She talked to me, then went to go find Pathfinder. He’s in engineering, I think.”

“Oh, okay. Cool. Uh, I’m gonna go…” He gestured over his shoulder. “…just make sure…did she seem hurt?”

“A little bit, but she was transported out before the ring reached her. She did better than I did, I think.” Natalie smiled sheepishly. “At least I know it works.”

“That’s the spirit.” The weird, glass-half-full-but-at-what-cost spirit. Bless Natalie, honestly. “I’ll tell her you’re doing better when I see her, yeah?”

“Of course. And congratulations on the win!”

And she was a good sport on top of that. Seriously. What a champ.

If Wraith was well enough to hunt down Pathfinder, she was probably fine. Probably. Or else just stubborn and possibly walking on broken bones. Wraith _hated_ getting medical attention, hated it more than damn near anything, and would do whatever she could to avoid it. Elliott got it, to some extent—he was _not_ fond of needles and may or may not have passed out once as a teenager when he had to have blood drawn—but it made him worry. A _lot_. More than he cared to admit.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to try and talk her into anything.

When he went into engineering, he found Pathfinder being worked on by one of the human engineers…while talking to a simulacrum torso that he recognized as Ashwin (they’d said his name over the loudspeakers at some point and it _finally_ stuck in Elliott’s brain, thank God). Another tech was looking at the lower half of Ashwin’s body. “ _…uhhhhh_ …” Elliott said, his brain stalling at the grisly-but-not-grisly sight.

“Oh, hey, Witt.” Ashwin waved a bit jerkily. “Don’t mind me, just lost both my legs.”

“ _How_.”

“Didn’t get out of the way of the train. At least my repairs are cheaper than yours.”

“That’s funny _and_ true!” Pathfinder said cheerfully.

“And _morbid_ ,” Elliott said, aghast. Damn it, he’d experience existential horror over simulacrums in the past couple weeks than he ever had in his entire life. “Does it…y’know, _hurt?_ ”

“Not in the fleshy human sense. I still hurt, it’s just mostly the psychological knowledge that my legs got sheered off by a train. Really freaks a guy out.” Ashwin tilted his head. “You looking for Wraith?”

Oh, yeah. He was, wasn’t he? “Natalie said she came here to find Path…”

“She did!” Pathfinder said. “She just left one minute and thirty-four seconds ago. I tried to get her to go to the medical bay, but she said she was fine. Ashwin doesn’t think she was.”

“She definitely wasn’t. I could spot the dislocated shoulder. I wanted to tell her, but she looked kind of cage-y, so…” Ashwin shrugged. “Figured I’d leave it alone. The pain will make her get help eventually.”

That part he was wrong about. Wraith was the most stubborn person Elliott had ever met, save for maybe Pathfinder. If she didn’t want to go to medical, she wasn’t going to medical, and damn the consequences. “I’ll try talking to her. Which way did she go?”

“She said she was going back to her quarters,” Pathfinder said. “If you run, you will probably be able to catch her.”

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll hunt you down later, okay? And…” Elliott grimaced. “Uh, good luck with your legs.”

Ashwin snorted. “Thanks.”

Pathfinder was right; it didn’t take much for Elliott to catch up with her. From the hunch of her shoulder, she had _definitely_ dislocated it, and was limping a bit besides. “Hey!” Elliott called after her.

Wraith turned around swiftly, as if ready for a fight. The look on her face was enough to make Elliott stop and hold up his hands. “ _Easy_ , it’s just me. Hi.” He grinned, trying to hide the spikes of concern that shot through him. “You, uh…you kinda look like you dislocated your shoulder, there…”

“…yeah.” Wraith’s posture relaxed, somewhat. The caginess was still clear in her eyes, but she always looked like that post-combat. “Good win back there.”

“Thanks. Do you, uh…do you want help with that?” He gestured towards her shoulder. “I know my sutures suck, but I’m pretty good at shoulders by now.”

Wraith still looked hesitant. Elliott wasn’t sure _why_. He was actually pretty good at re-setting shoulders by now. He was struggling to think of the right joke to crack (preferably at his own expense) when Wraith spoke. “I just…”

She held out her hands. He could see immediately what the problem was; the gloves were pretty shredded, and he could see blood sticking to the fabric. “I was going back to my room for a first aid kit,” she said. “But…I could use some help with my shoulder.”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course, more than willing to. Uhm, you know, if you want to wait down here, I can go raid the hospital? Just…might be faster, and I know it’s a long way up to the ship…”

_Stop rambling. Stop it right now._

“I don’t know if I want to be down here. They don’t allow reporters up top,” she pointed out.

“Oh. Yeah. Good point.” They’d probably want to know all about how she felt after being thrown off a cliff. _I dunno, tabloid assholes, pretty bad about it, actually!_ “I’ll deflect if anyone starts getting too nosy. Pull the _champion_ card and all.”

That got a small smile out of her—something he’d count as a win if he weren’t also so nervous suddenly “Thanks for that.”

Fortunately, they didn’t have to go that far. It was a pretty clear shot from where they were to the elevator, and then another good shot from there to Wraith’s room. She made a beeline for her dresser, pulling out a first aid kit. She dropped it on the bed and started struggling out of her gear. “Do you need painkillers?” Elliott asked, trying to fill the silence.

“I have some.” She was finally able to get her gear and the top layer of her jumpsuit pulled off. It made the strange shape of her dislocated shoulder more obvious. Elliott winced at the sight. “Meathead’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, he sure is. Lifeline got him, but I got a few shots in for you.” Wraith sat down, which Elliott took as his cue to step closer. “Uhm, sorry in advance for this.”

“Don’t worry. Just do it.”

Elliott tried to be gentle. He tried his best to do the most pain-free shoulder resetting techniques, but he still heard Wraith hiss in pain as her shoulder popped back into place. “Sorry,” Elliott said.

“Don’t worry, really.” Wraith tested the shoulder and sighed heavily, staring down at her hands. Blood coated the palms of her hands, caking them and the cuffs of her long-sleeve undertop. “I should…”

“Do you want me to - ?”

“No, just give me a second.”

She got up and slipped into her bathroom. Elliott wasn’t sure if he should leave. She hadn’t _asked_ him to, but this also seemed…really private. It hit him that he’d never seen her without her gloves on, or those sleeves with the thumb holes. Wraith liked to stay pretty covered. Like her clothes were meant to reflect how she usually was with people: closed off.

Except with him, apparently, and seriously, _how_ did this keep happening? How he keep getting close when he was trying _not to do that?_

“You had Crypto, right?” Wraith said, jarring him from his thoughts. “How was he?”

Oh, good, a distracting conversation starter. “Crypto was…” Mirage grimaced. “…I hate to say it, but that weird little bastard is _good_. He’s actually really good. Bailed the second we landed and left me and Ajay to answer all the reporters, though.”

“ _I_ bail the second we land.”

“Yeah, but you earned that right. It’s different. He needs to save my ass at least five more times to…”

The conclusion to that thought flew right out of his head. In its place grew the sudden, certain realization that something was wrong.

Then his leg started hurting. So did his face. And a lot of things, probably because he’d fallen off a train earlier. The meds were wearing off and now that he knew Wraith was safe, oh _boy_ was he feeling it. He didn’t realize Wraith had noticed his distress until she spoke: “Hey, are you okay?”

“…I think the adrenaline finally wore off. Uhm, I should go before I pass out on your floor…”

He started for the door and stumbled immediately. Wraith was suddenly at his side, holding him up. “Let me help. I don’t want you passing out in the hallway.”

“ _Aww_ , you do care.” The comment slipped out of his mouth in his _Mirage being charming_ voice. Usually that’d make him cringe—she hated it when he used that voice on her—but this time, he just hoped it was enough to cover his nerves. Her bun was coming undone. He just hoped her hair didn’t get all tangled again. “Not even a little mad I pointed a gun at you?”

“It’s nothing personal. I know.” She patted his arm. “Here, let’s get you back to your room.”

The walk was slower than normal. Neither he nor Wraith said anything, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable—at first. At first, it felt more like the kind of silence you could only have with someone you knew really well. It only got awkward once he realized that was how it felt.

He hadn’t meant to get close to his team mates—to _any_ team mates. Now he considered Pathfinder a friend (irritating and weird though he could be), and he had a crush on Wraith.

A crush that refused to die, no matter what.

Yeah. _Awkward._

Fortunately, the walk to his room wasn’t _too_ long, so he didn’t have to stew in his discomfort for too long. “You have a first aid kit?” she asked once they arrived.

“Yeah, still got stuff from last time I got beat up. Thank you.” Elliott managed to step to his door without collapsing. That was good, meant his leg wasn’t _too_ beat up. “You good?”

“I will be. Probably won’t be competing in the next match, depending on this shoulder, but…they’ll survive without me.” She tested her shoulder and grimaced. “I promise I’ll rest if you promise you’ll rest?”

Elliott laughed. “I am going to shower and play video games until dinner, believe me. I earned that.”

“Definitely. And…thanks for trying to help with Meathead.”

“Yeah, of course. I wasn’t going to just leave you.” It would’ve been _smart,_ probably, but he wasn’t capable of it. He knew it. He just hoped nobody else had figured it out. “Sorry I couldn’t stop him from throwing you like that.”

Wraith sighed. “It’s fine. I’m sure someone will have a more embarrassing incident soon.”

“With all the new people? Probably.” It was probably sick to hope that, but he did. He wanted the spotlight off her as fast as possible. “Don’t worry about it, yeah? Everyone knows you’re one of the best of us.”

“…thanks for that.” She ducked her head and smiled slightly. It was the most endearing thing he’d ever seen. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. Yeah, see you.”

He almost watched her walk down the hallway. Fortunately, logic brain pointed out that hey, that’d be kind of weird, so instead he ducked into his room.

_Well, that went well._

Elliott sighed heavily and hobbled towards the bathroom. He just wanted to shower and veg out for a few hours. He didn’t want to think anymore. Wraith was fine, everything was fine, hell he was champion _again_. Everything was _great._

Then why did his chest hurt? What the _hell_ was he feeling right now?

_That’s probably the crush, Elliott._

Elliott hated that thought. He hated how it sounded like something one of his brothers would say.

He tried to shove his traitorous thoughts aside, settle down, and focus on anything other than how he felt about Wraith.

It didn’t completely work, but at least he didn’t feel like he was drowning in it.


	7. Chapter 7

Wraith’s shoulder ached.

The pain was bad enough on its own. The memories that it triggered were worse. Memories of Elliott trying to make a painful process less painful, of how concerned he’d looked when he saw her in the hallway, of the burst of concern that had shot through _her_ when she saw him stagger like that, nearly collapsing on her floor.

Why had she let him in there? She’d been comfortable enough to take off her gloves and bandage her hands with him in the next room and it wasn’t until later that she realized how _stupid_ it had been. She was trying to _get over him_. Letting him close like that _wasn’t_ getting over him.

And the fact that the proximity came so naturally to her…

Wraith groaned noisily and pulled her pillow over her head. She hated this. She wanted to hate him, too, but it wasn’t his fault. That was just the person Elliott was—naturally friendly, naturally close to people he considered his friends, even Pathfinder (despite his repeated public jabs at the MRVN). There was an edge of desperation to it with strangers, but she could tell he wasn’t always faking. Not when he did it with people that he seemed more comfortable around.

That was just who he was.

She wouldn’t let herself consider the alternative: that the closeness was tinged with longing for him as it was for her.

She _couldn’t_ let herself consider that.

Wraith threw the pillow off her head and onto the ground. There was no way she’d be getting sleep, not now. Maybe another walk would wear her down, make her traitorous mind stop racing and thinking about _him_. She tossed the pillow back onto the bed as she walked to the door. Every step felt like an effort, but she forced herself into her shoes and out the door.

_Just walk it off, Wraith. Think about something else._

She wasn’t sure what her heal time would be until the next match. Jumping back into the arena would be stupid, and she wasn’t _exactly_ in a hurry, but she would have to go back at some point. Even if what she’d seen so far didn’t have any signs of the information she was looking for, it couldn’t hurt to keep digging.

Besides, the Syndicate would be irritated if she didn’t appear regularly. She was apparently one of their higher earners, not that she’d noticed. She barely touched the money she earned, outside of paying her medical bills and buying the basic necessities. Sometimes she spent a little more on food, but that was the extent of her indulgences.

Well, she _had_ bought some nicer hair care products on Elliott’s advice…

_No. Stop. Don’t think about him._

She rubbed her eyes as she mentally went over the map. It was possible that there would be more computers to check in one of the city areas. She might want to check there, next time she was on a team. She’d have to be with the original team. Anyone else would just ask questions that she wasn’t ready for. It was always much harder to investigate when she was with randoms—especially aggressive ones that wanted to keep pushing, keep fighting.

Pathfinder and Elliott were always good at slowing down.

_I thought we **weren’t** going to think about him?_

Wraith stopped and sighed heavily. She was about to start walking again when…

_Mrow?_

…was that a _cat?!_

A cat trotted down the hall—orange fur, tail high and crooked like a question mark, head tilted as it stared at her. It was wearing, of all things, a harness and a leash. Wraith didn’t even know you could leash train cats. “Hey,” she called softly, crouching down and holding out her hand. “What are you doing here?”

To her surprise, the cat trotted closer to sniff her fingers. Friendly little guy, then. She didn’t notice a collar, and there wasn’t a tag anywhere on the harness. Maybe it was microchipped? “What are you doing out here?” Wraith asked quietly. The cat rubbed its head against her hand and purred. “Where’s your human?”

At least this would take her mind off of things. Wraith risked picking the cat up. It didn’t protest; it seemed happy to get the attention. She wasn’t sure how the cat could’ve gotten too far, especially on a leash. Maybe one of the new guys had lost it. Wraith walked down the hall, keeping an eye out for anyone frantically searching for a missing cat. After a few minutes of walking, she heard...she wasn’t sure. Something mechanical, perhaps?

_What is that?_

She squinted ahead. It was difficult to hear over the low humming of the ship, but there was definitely something there. It looked like it was…hovering. Not a security camera…a drone, maybe?

Drones. _Crypto._

As Wraith watched, she heard something else—approaching footsteps. The drone blinked briefly before zipping out of sight. She could just make out a security officer walking down the hall, on patrol as they often were. She also saw Crypto slipping out of a side door, trying to keep his head down but failing.

And if _she_ had seen him, the guard definitely had.

_do something_ , whispered one of the voices.

Do something? What the hell was she supposed to do, and why? She had some gratitude to the guy for keeping Mirage alive (not that she was going to dwell on that for too long), but she wasn’t going to stick her neck out for them.

_you have to. do something_.

The guard had changed course. He was coming for Crypto.

_quick, do something!_

“Hyeon!” she called out. “Hey, I found your cat!”

Crypto froze. The guard stopped to watch the interaction. Crypto, fortunately, caught on pretty quickly, and played along. “Thank you!” he said. He was a damn good actor; if she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve believed him. “Little brat likes to wander off…”

“It’s no problem.” Wraith waited for Crypto to fall in step with her before walking away from the guard. She glanced over her shoulder once, then added in a low voice, “He’s walking away.”

Crypto breathed a quiet sigh of relief—then immediately looked at her suspiciously. “What did you do that for?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Help me.” She could hear the clinking of his drone, tucked away somewhere underneath his giant jacket. “Why did you do that?”

Good question. Why _had_ she done that?

“Maybe you owe me one now,” she said. “I like collecting favors.” That actually wasn’t true, but it was better to let him think than to admit that she’d done it at the urging of her alternate timeline doppelgangers, for reasons they hadn’t bothered to clarify. “Anyway, I need to find whose cat this is…”

“Oh, she’s…actually mine.” Crypto looked embarrassed as he held out his arms for the cat. “I took her along with me. She must have wandered off when I wasn’t looking…”

The cat mewed and all but jumped out of Wraith’s arms when she passed him over. From the way she started purring up a storm, that was definitely Crypto’s cat. “You should be thanking her,” Wraith said, somewhat joking. “She really saved your ass back there.”

That got a quiet huff out of Crypto. “I guess so.” The suspicious, wary look returned just as quickly. “You like collecting favors, huh?”

Damn it. She really wish that wasn’t the explanation she’d given. It sounded terrible when he said it out loud like that.

“Yeah…never know when you might need one.” Wraith shrugged a bit awkwardly and turned around to walk away. “Congrats on the win today.”

Crypto didn’t try to talk to her or follow her. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was staring after her with an intense look on his face. She got the sinking feeling that he didn’t believe her and probably had more questions about her now than ever.

Great. That was just what she needed: one of the new guys getting suspicious about her.

At least that would be easier to handle than her Mirage problem.

_And_ now she was thinking about Elliott again.

_Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse._

Wraith kept walking until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. It was only then that she let herself go back to her room and lie down.

Even as exhaustion claimed her, Wraith couldn’t help hoping that Elliott would wait until he was fully healed before he jumped back into another match. She didn’t want to see him get hurt.

And it made her more uncomfortable than she’d like to admit that he might get in trouble without her there to protect him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, sorry for the delay. I'm trying to rotate WIPs so I'm not abandoning anything, but...y'know, covid-19 threw my headspace out of whack, then I fell down a Detroit: Become Human spite hole that lead me to write fix-it fics for my own sanity, and I only just now got the go-ahead to quarantine properly, so...yeah, lot's happened. Let's not think about it and go to the world of bloodsports and pining!
> 
> Of note! This chapter does rely on my own headcanons about how the respawn system works in this game, which you can read about [here](https://screechthemighty.tumblr.com/post/187635238513/headcanon-post-that-no-one-asked-for-but-heres) for clarification.

He signed up for a new match once his body was back in fighting shape.

Or, at least, the doctor said his body was back in fighting shape. That didn’t always mean you were 100% better, just that you were close enough that you wouldn’t collapse the second you landed in the arena. Elliott probably could have taken another few days, but he was going stir-crazy up on that ship. The air was still too stale and there was barely anything to do. He needed to get back out there.

Also, he _really_ wanted to get away from Wraith, bad as it sounded. It was nothing she’d done, because her behavior hadn’t changed, but being around her was like shoving his hand directly into boiling water. Prepping for another match would help.

At least, he _hoped_ it would help, because he was fresh out of ideas if it didn’t.

He had to do randoms again; Pathfinder had gotten better before him (predictably) and had already signed up by the time Elliott got around to it. Less than ideal. The day of the event, Elliott crossed his fingers and hoped and even prayed a little that Pathfinder would show up on his team.

_Mirage._

Okay, that was him.

_Rousette._

Newcomer he didn’t know, but fine, that was fine.

_The Hammer._

…Meathead?!

Meathead. Of course. He was on a team with Meathead. Great. _Great._ This was fine.

Elliott wasn’t sure what to make of Rousette when he saw her. She was on the short side (he was bad at determining height but if he had to spitball it, five foot, maybe five one?), dark skin, black hair in a braid, red dot between her eyes— _bindi_ , that’s what it was called. She had a determined look on her face, a look that said she was _probably_ the kind of short person who’d steal your kneecaps if provoked. He couldn’t remember seeing her in action before, which made him nervous. Too many variables going on right now.

“So, uh…” Elliott tried smiling at the two of them. “How’s it feel being in the champion squad, huh?”

“Just stay out of my way, all right?” Meathead snapped. “Both of you.”

 _…okay._ Yeah, this was gonna suck.

“Sure thing, big guy.” Elliott turned to Rousette as her wrist lit up. “Okay, jumpmaster, where are we going?”

She leaned out of their platform to check. “Well…”

Meathead jumped.

Both Elliott and Rousette stared after him, eyes wide and confused. “…can he _do_ that?!” Rousette asked.

“ _Yeah,_ doesn’t mean he _should!_ ” Elliott wasn’t sure how he surprised. Solo dropping tracked with pretty much everything he knew about the guy. “Uhm…okay, what do you want to do?”

“Should we go after him?”

Elliott tried to track where Meathead was dropping. It looked like he was going for the blue light zone. Awesome. _Of course_. “We can, but it’s gonna be a hot zone.” He was tempted to tell her to just leave him if he really wanted to die, but trying to win with an accidental duo would be a _lot_ harder. “Up to you.”

Rousette considered it, then nodded. “We’ll land on the edge and meet up with him once we find weapons. I’ll stay close to you.”

Damn it. It really sunk in then that he _was_ the match champion. That wasn’t usually terrifying, but it was today. “I’ll have your back, don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound confident.

The fake confidence didn’t stop his stomach from feeling like it was trying to climb out of his throat as they dropped. He could see a _lot_ of dive tails. It was almost enough to make him _not_ want to look, but he made himself do it. Better to know and have a rough idea of how to handle the situation than not.

He’d already forgotten the exact number by the time they landed, but it was definitely enough to classify them as _screwed, totally screwed._

_It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ve got this. You’re the champion. You can do this._

First gun he found was a Mozambique.

_I’m dead. I’m done for._

“ _You scrubs going to get in here or what?!_ ” Meathead snarled over the comlink.

“Hey, you told us to stay out of your way!” Next gun he found was an RE-45. Okay, not great, but better than the Mozambique. “Rou, how you doing?”

“There’s a level one body shield over here if you’re still looking for one.”

“ _Awesome_ , I’ll take that!”

As he ran to her position to grab the body shield, Elliott saw an opponent running by. He was able to throw them off his scent with a well-placed double, but the sight still made his nerves go absolutely haywire.

_Stay calm, keep your head on straight, stay calm…damn, I wish Wraith and Pathfinder were here…_

_Nope. Don’t think about them._

Elliott ducked into the house and grabbed the shield upgrade. Seeing the flash of white course over his body made him feel a _bit_ better—not much, but enough that his palms weren’t quite so sweaty.“Have you seen our third?” Elliott asked.

“No sign of him yet. There’s…” Rousette tilted her head, then grimaced and shook it. “A lot. A lot of people out there.”

“Okay. We’ll play it safe until we find him, stick to cover…don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.” He couldn’t even encourage third-partying…not because he was opposed to the tactic, but because with that many people around, you ran the risk of being third-partied yourself. Bad enough that they were down a person because Meathead had run off. “And once we find him, we’ll see if he’s willing to actually strategize.”

Elliott’s money was on _no_ , but he tried not to think about that.

Rousette did, at least, stay close as they ran across the city. A few times she would tug on his sleeve, pulling him away from some enemies. She must’ve had some super-hearing thing going. That was useful, to be sure, though Elliott wondered how well she was doing with all this nonsense going on around them. “Where the hell _is_ he?” Elliott grumbled.

Of course, just as he said that, someone got thrown through a window.

“…think I found him,” Rousette said, deadpan.

Elliott snorted in laughter. “Good eye, kid.” Sure enough, Meathead peered out not long after. He ducked back in, probably going to loot. “I’ll send out a decoy, then we can run across if the coast is clear.”

It was a common tactic, and one that usually worked. When he sent out his decoy, nothing happened, so he followed it across the street.

Turned out, either his decoy didn’t work or someone happened to see _him_ and not the decoy. Because next thing Elliott knew, he was being shot at.

_No, no, **shit!**_

Rousette scrambled, managing to get behind cover. Elliott tried to follow, but another burst from what sounded like a Spitfire cracked his shield. Then cracked _him._ Elliott yelped in pain as the bullets actually found flesh, and then…

_Oh, that’s bad._

The decoy that suddenly spawned from his body and started crawling away with perhaps a _bit_ more drama than Elliott would actually use, was automatic. He’d rigged up the suit to sense when his shield was starting to go into stasis mode, throw out a decoy, and active his cloak. It was only good for a few seconds, but that was usually enough to get into a building—and hopefully enough that Meathead or Rousette would be able to jab him with whatever mess of medicine they stuck in those revive needles and get him back on his feet.

Hopefully.

Elliott scrambled as fast as his shaking limbs and gradual blood loss would let him, clearing the door into the building just as his cloak wore off. He heard someone rummaging around, and for half a horrifying second thought that maybe it was an enemy. Fortunately for him, it was Meathead, going through someone’s stuff. “Hey,” Elliott called weakly. “Hey, uh, could use some help?”

Meathead didn’t look up. Elliott tried speaking up. “Hey, I don’t think they saw me…” Actually, he knew they weren’t coming after him. His decoy hadn’t pinged, meaning that whoever had shot him was probably being third-partied, though with this place being the nightmare it was, that probably wouldn’t last long. “If you could just…get me back on my feet…Rousette’s out there, we’ve gotta…”

To Elliott’s shock, Meathead walked right past him and up the stairs. “Hey… _hey…!_ ” Elliott stared up after him. “Hey, are you _kidding me?! **Hey!**_ ”

Nothing. That asshole was really up there looting and not _helping_.

Elliott slumped against the wall and struggled to breathe. Okay. Okay, don’t look down. He knew what he’d see, because he’d looked before. Their body shields doubled as stasis fields, so if he looked down all he’d see was his blood pooling and floating about an inch from the skin as he slowly bled out because _Meathead didn’t take five seconds to revive him_ …

“Rousette?” he called weakly over the headset. “Rou?”

He thought he heard her reply. Whatever she said was lost on him, because the room had started to spin and he was slouching even more. Oh, boy. Yeah, that was a lot of blood.

_I hope Mom’s not watching right now…_

Elliott jolted upright with a harsh gasp.

“Shh, _shh_ ,” Rousette said. “Someone might hear you.”

It was cold—much colder than it had been earlier. Why was he lying in the snow? Wait, was that a respawn beacon? “Wh…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” Rousette whispered. She really _did_ sound apologetic. “I was pinned down…you were already unconscious by the time I got there.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained the respawn beacon. And why he felt so jittery. He didn’t know what was in the medicine those things dispensed, but it made him feel like _trash_ , every single time. “Where’s Meathead?”

“If you mean the Hammer…” Rousette scowled. “He took your ammo and left. I saw him looking for another fight. I don’t know where he is now.”

“He took my…son of a _bitch_ , for real?!” Elliott checked his pockets. Sure enough… “ _Seriously?!_ Loots my corpse, doesn’t even bother to…hold up, did you carry me?”

Rousette looked sheepish. “I…had to drag you. Your equipment is kind of heavy. Sorry.”

“’s all good.” Elliott stopped to take a few deep breaths. His heart still felt like it was racing. That would probably last the rest of the match. “Oh, man, we should…I need ammo…”

“Here.” She pulled off her backpack and started producing clips of heavy ammo. “I have a Flatline, too. You can take it.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to…”

“This place has already been looted and I don’t know when we’ll find another weapon. I’d rather you be armed.” She pulled free the Flatline and held it out to him. “I prefer shotguns anyway.”

Elliott only took the weapon once he was sure she had a gun (EVA-8, not a Peacekeeper but not a bad gun in the right hands). “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I mean that. Thank you.”

Rousette smiled. Her smile quickly fell off her face as she tilted her head. “I think…”

Elliott wanted to ask her what she thought, but for once, kept his mouth shut. Rousette crouched low to the ground and pressed a hand into the snow. After another pause… “Someone’s coming,” she whispered.

_Oh, no, I’m not ready._

But the arena didn’t care if he was ready or not. Elliott forced himself into a kneeling position and aimed. “How screwed are we right now?” he whispered.

“It’s two, I think. Probably hoping to use the respawn beacon over there.”

“Right. Run or fight?”

“We should probably run. I don’t know if you’re in any shape to fight just yet.”

She wasn’t wrong. He still felt shaken as hell, and that wasn’t exactly the best state to be starting a fight in. “ Sounds good. You take the lead. I’m still kind of seeing double.”

They were, at least, able to slip away while the other team used the nearby respawn beacon. Elliott still felt jittery as they got away, but the feeling slowly faded over time. Eventually, they stopped in an abandoned van that only held some light ammo and a level one scope. No sign or word from Meathead. “Where the _hell_ did he go?” Elliott grumbled.

“No idea. He’s been radio silent ever since I chewed him out for not helping me carry you.” Rousette actually sounded apologetic about that. “He’s kind of an asshole, huh?”

“ _Kind of_ is an understatement.” Elliott tried the coms. “Hey, dickhead, you out there?”

Nothing on his end either. Elliott checked the make sure the dumbass hadn’t tapped out, but he was still there. “Okay, I’m gonna be honest…right now, I’m thinking our best bet is to keep our heads down and hope we get lucky. Even if we can’t pull off a win, if we place high enough, that’s a reduction off our medical bills.” _Yikes,_ that sounded bad when he said it out loud. “Not that I plan on getting killed or anything…”

“No, I get it.” Rousette’s determined look had slipped slightly, revealing a hint of dread in her eyes. Elliott only noticed it was there because he was feeling it, too. “Do you know what zugzwang is?”

“Chess thing, right? No matter what move you make, you’re screwed?”

“Something like that. It feels fitting.”

“No kidding.” Right now, he was looking at a _best they could manage_ kind of match. It sucked, but sometimes you got dealt a garbage hand and you had to make it work. “We can try to meet up with…whatever the hell that idiot is calling himself, but don’t sweat it too much. If he wants to play solos, he can play solos.”

 _Probably gonna get him killed, which will screw us even more, but…_ well, if there was another thing he’d learned in the arena, it was that sometimes you were better off not having a team mate. You just had to be teamed up with someone like Meathead to learn that.

Elliott wished, more than anything, that he was back in King’s Canyon. He knew that place backwards, forwards, and upside-down—all the good hiding places, the ways to navigate around combat, everything you’d need to play the _flying under the radar_ game. Here, everything was new, and his stupid goldfish memory had already forgotten half the landmarks. Rousette seemed to know where she was going, so he stuck close to her, using her super-hearing or super-vibration senses or whatever it was she had as a cue when to do a little misdirection with his decoys. They were kind of starting to settle into a groove. It was almost enough to make him forget about…

 _“Where the hell are you?!_ ”

Oh, right, Meathead was on their team.

“Trying not to _die_ , currently. Where the hell are _you?!_ ” Elliott tried to keep his voice down. He didn’t _think_ there was anyone nearby, but with the ring getting smaller by the second, he didn’t want to risk it. “You’re all over the map, every time we get to where you _were…_ ”

“Listen, just get over here and…”

Meathead’s demand was cut off by a _crack_ so loud that Elliott heard it in real life, not just over the coms. He _felt_ the color drain out of his face as he ducked out of the way. _Oh, no, kraber in play, kraber, we're dead…_

“ _Get over here and help me!_ ”

“ _I don’t know where you are - !_ ”

Meathead started swearing. Elliott wasn’t exactly a prude—he had military family members and worked in a bar, after all—but some of what was coming out of Meathead’s mouth in that moment was enough to make _him_ blush. The swearing didn’t last too long; another noisy _crack_ silenced Meathead. The soft _ping_ of his alert system confirmed that he was out.

“Damn. Is it wrong that I was kind of hoping he’d be a good bullet sponge while we slipped in to third-party?” Rousette whispered.

Elliott laughed. It was a little more frantic and high-pitched than he would’ve liked, but it was, at least, genuine. “Honestly, that’s about all he’s been good for this whole match. But, uh, I think we should _really_ be worried about that kraber…”

Or they could worry about the footsteps that were approaching their position. Either one.

Elliott and Rousette ducked out of sight. Elliott thought he heard the grinding of metal—Pathfinder, he thought at first, but he quickly realized the steps were too bouncy. Octane, already? Elliott thought for sure the speedy little bastard had been laid out for longer after Wraith drop-kicked him into lava. Apparently not.

“Okay.” So, they were down by one, one of the people they were up against was most likely Octane, and he was still shaky and dry-mouthed after his revive. _Zugzwang_ was getting more and more appropriate by the second. “Okay. Uhm. I have an idea. It’s really stupid, but if I can draw them away…”

“What?”

“ _Listen_ , you know that uhm…the big spire, the thingie? Skyspire?”

“Skyhook?”

“Yeah, that. If they don’t shoot me, I’ll meet you there. If they _do_ shoot me, at least try to get top three, okay? Like I said, big reduction on the bills, basically a free match if you…”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” _He_ was worried, but he hoped it didn’t show in his voice. “Just get us far up as you can.”

Rousette didn’t look thrilled about this plan, but it was also pretty clear she knew the score. Getting as high up on the board as possible was pretty much their only option now. If she had to bail on him to do it…Well, was it really bailing if he’d given her permission? Irregardless, if that was what it took…

“How can you be sure they’ll go after you?”

“Octavio’s on their team. We’re best buds.” Elliott winked, trying to hide his nerves. “Trust me.”

Rousette took a deep breath, then nodded. “I’ll see you at Skyhook.”

She probably wouldn’t, but Elliott appreciated the positivity.

“Yeah, see you.”

Elliott waited until she had a head start before doing what was, arguably, the dumbest thing he’d ever done in a match.

“Hey, Tavi!” Elliott shouted from his hiding spot. “Shocked to see you back out here so soon!”

Then, he ran for it.

Back when he was little, _really_ little, Mom used to read him this book. He’d forgotten most of the plot by now as an adult, but he remembered one part where the main character had an invisibility ring and kept taunting giant spiders as he tried to rescue his friends from their clutches. It was kind of the same principle—stay low, try to stay hidden (he couldn’t cloak yet, but he could definitely stay down), and throw insults out there.

Fortunately, Octane was _really_ easy to rile up.

“Can’t keep me down, amigo!” Octane called back. “Where’s your new buddies?”

“Like I’m telling you that.” Elliott checked the time on his ultimate. Not where he’d like it to be, but close. If he could just keep it together for a bit longer… “Where you hiding?”

“We both know hiding is _your_ thing.” Octane’s footsteps were suddenly, dangerously close. Elliott froze, holding his breath, praying that it was just echoes and not actual distance. “So, what’s behind door number one?”

He heard a door being flung open—but not _his_ door. It was still far too close, so Elliott made a mad dash in the opposite direction. He threw a decoy out there while he was at it.

Said decoy ended up being shot not even a few seconds later, so good on him for thinking to do that.

“You’re not on your own, are you? Thought I saw that big bastard on your team. How’s he as a team mate?”

“Oh, he sucks. Turns out those major asshole vibes weren’t just my dislike for guys too macho for anything but beer.” Elliott heard more footsteps, but said footsteps ran right past him and towards Octane’s voice. _Should I say something, or was that one of his buddies?_ “How about you? Fun with randoms?”

Before Octane could reply, Elliott heard gunshots.

_Okay, not a buddy of his. Run, run, **run…**_

Elliott took off. The second his ultimate chimed that it was ready, he activated it, sending out the decoys and cloaking. _Just go, keep going, don’t look back_ …

He thought he was in the clear by the time the cloak wore off.

That was a mistake, because when he ducked through a door, the first thing he saw was the barrel of a gun.

 _Oh_ -

He couldn’t remember if he had the chance to finish that thought.

The regeneration treatment had a bad habit of giving some partial amnesia. That meant Elliott’s memories jumped from _gun to the face_ to _puking in a bucket in the medical bay_. It was disorienting as hell, mostly because of the puking. _Cool. Awesome._

“ _Shit_ ,” Elliott groaned when he was finally done.

“Nausea and vomiting is completely normal following a regeneration,” said the doctor calmly. “What do you remember last, Mister Witt?”

“Someone pointed a gun at me.” Elliott glanced up from his bucket. He knew this doctor. She’d worked with him before. She was pretty okay, as far as Apex doctors went, though he couldn’t remember her name for the life of him. “Did we win?”

“No, but your final surviving team mate was able to make it to second place.”

 _Second_ , damn. Good job, Rou. “Is she good?”

“She has required a slightly more extensive regeneration, but all signs point to her giving a full recovery.” The doctor leaned over to examine his pupils. “I’m going to recommend extensive rest for at least two weeks. Also, your friend stopped by.”

“Which one?” _As if I have that many._

“Wraith, twice. And Pathfinder as well. Should I let them know that you’re feeling up to visitors?”

Good question. _Was_ he feeling up to visitors? A fresh wave of nausea answered that question for him. “I’m gonna…” He stopped, breathed slowly to try and keep a wave of bile at bay, then spoke. “…I’ll call them when I’m not… _puking_.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll have someone give you something for the nausea.”

The medication they sent over helped, but he still didn’t feel up to seeing anyone until the day after next. Even then, Mirage was sure that he looked like an absolute nightmare—still pale and queasy-looking, still not energetic enough to do anything but lie in bed. He did, at least, make an effort to sit up when Wraith came in. “Damn, I wish you’d been there,” was the first thing out of Elliott’s mouth. “We could’ve won that.”

_Damn it. Damn it, that was too close to flirting, what are you **thinking?**_

Wraith, fortunately, only smiled weakly in response. She looked worried; did he _really_ look that bad? “How do you feel?”

“Oh, like garbage, but I think that’s normal.” She knew; pretty much every long-time competitor knew. “Should be on my feet in no time.”

“Doctor said you’re on rest for two weeks.”

“Yeah, well...what does she know?” Elliott tried for a grin. “Seriously, though, I’m fine. I’ve been in worse shape. I’m just pissed I lost. Going from champion squad to eating dirt stings.”

“You got second place.” Wraith finally moved from the doorway into the room proper. She looked hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she should be there. “That’s not too shabby.”

“Yeah, only because of Rousette…dang it. I was going to ask about her.” She was probably still out of it, but he needed to thank her. And congratulate her. And hope that if he was going to be stuck with another random that it was her. “She’s got potential. Keep an eye out for her.”

“Want me to see how she’s doing?”

“Please? Don’t bother with Meathead, though, screw him.” Elliott hadn’t even thought about asking how he was doing until that moment. “He looted my corpse instead of respawning me. Can you believe that?”

“I saw.” Wraith’s voice darkened slightly. “He’s not going to make many friends behaving like that.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Elliott finally let himself slouch back into the pillows. Sitting up straight was still too exhausting. “I wonder who got him. I owe them a drink.”

“I’ll ask around.” Wraith hesitated, reached out, briefly rested a hand on his shoulder, then drew it back. “And…I’m glad you’re okay.”

He wasn’t sure if the gentleness in her voice was all in his head or not. Maybe it was the painkillers and the still-lingering sense of unease that covered his whole body, but he let himself think that it was genuine. Just for a second. Even though that was probably a bad idea.

“Hey, I’m always okay,” Elliott replied. He tried for a smile; he hoped that she chalked up how sappy it must’ve looked to said painkillers. “But thanks. And thanks for visiting. I know you hate it in here.”

Wraith looked around the room. “It’s easier when I’m not the one in the bed. Uhm…Pathfinder is outside right now, actually. Is it okay if he…?”

“Yeah, let him come in. I’m good.”

Wraith slipped out sometime during Pathfinder’s visit, which mostly insisted of him enthusiastically recounting how the match had gone for him. His team had placed fifth; the only reason he wasn’t in worse shape was that he went down in the ring, which still “hurt” (as much as anything hurt for Pathfinder), but was easier to fix. Elliott had thought the robot’s presence would be overwhelming, but it was actually kind of nice. Having someone act as if everything was fine and dandy made him feel weirdly better.

Wraith didn’t come to visit in-person again, preferring to message him to check in. Elliott knew why, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. And relieved. And disappointed.

That was just gonna be his life now, huh?

He tried not to think about it.

Elliott was out of the hospital before the week was out. He went through the usual post-release steps: first pharmacy, then billing. It always made him wince to see how much the regeneration cost, but the sting was lessened, somewhat, by Rou getting them the second-place discount.

Speaking of…

“So, I don’t know her real name, but my team mate, Rousette?”

“Sahana Vaswani,” the person behind the counter corrected.

“Yeah, her. Has she covered her bill yet?”

“Not yet, from the look of it.”

“Can you put it on my tab? Is that allowed?”

The billing person raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Elliott. “…I can arrange for that. Are you sure? It’s…”

Elliott waved him off. “Am I good for it, or not?”

“You are. I’m just surprised is all.”

“I owed her one. Now I don’t. Nothing weird about it.” Elliott couldn’t help sounding defensive. Couldn’t a guy be nice without people finding it weird? “You saw her perform. She’s got potential. It’d suck to have her bogged down in medical debt.”

The billing guy considered that, nodded, then turned back to his computer. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

“Thanks.”

And that should’ve been it. He’d done his good deed, returned a favor, and now it was time to go back to his bedroom and sleep this whole stupid mess off. Okay, get lunch first, then sleep this whole thing off. He was kind of starving. His plan was to slip in, grab whatever he could get to-go, then book it out of there before anyone had time to ask him about that stupid match.

That was the plan.

But like most well-laid plans, it ultimately ended in disaster, because just as he was making a move for the line…

“ _Bitch._ ”

He got shoulder-checked so hard he nearly got knocked onto his ass.

Elliott was just barely able to catch himself on the counter. Disbelief gave way to pure blind rage when he realized who, exactly, had just done that to him.

“ _Excuse me?!_ ” Elliott shouted, turning around to face Meathead. “You want repeat that, _cabrón_?!”

Meathead turned around. “You heard me, _bitch_.”

There was an appropriate response to this kind of behavior and an inappropriate one. On an academic level, Elliott knew that flying off the handle was just getting the reaction that Meathead wanted, and made himself look like an overly-sensitive crybaby on top of that.

On the other hand, his impulse control was bad, the recent regeneration only made it worse, and as it turned out, his resentment towards Meathead had only been building over time. It had just needed that shove to set off.

“Oh, that’s _real rich_ coming from the solo-dropping brain-dead hunk of beef who can’t even look after his team for five seconds. You were real fine about leaving me behind until you were downed, weren’t you?” And now Elliott was right up in the guy’s face, which was probably an even dumber move than swearing at him in public, but again: bad impulse control. “We could’ve won that…”

“We could’ve won that if you hadn’t been a _coward_ and kept up.”

“…if _you had stuck with the team, dumbass!_ ”

“You and that shrimp were holding me back.”

“Rousette is more of a Legend than you’ll _ever_ be, and…and… _y no vales mi saliva, imbécil de cabeza vacía_.” Uh-oh, channeling his mother. That usually preceded him getting his ass handed to him, if middle school was any indication. “ _Te apuñalaré mientras duermes…_ ”

The next shove wasn’t a shoulder-check, it was a full-on _push_. Elliott barely kept his footing. “ _Get out of my face_ ,” growled Meathead.

Elliott’s likely ill-advised retort was cut off by a single word from a very familiar voice: “ _Hey!_ ”

_Wraith’s here? Oh no. Wraith’s here._

Wraith was there, and suddenly putting herself between Elliott and Meathead, and…was that a knife? Oh, shit, she had a knife. “ _Back off_ ,” Wraith snapped.

Meathead looked at the knife, then at Wraith, then barked in laughter. “Really? You always let bitches do your fighting for you, _champion_?”

To say that Elliott saw red would be an understatement. The only thing that kept him from launching himself at Meathead was Wraith suddenly putting a hand on his chest. “ _Not worth it,_ ” she whispered. “Not worth it. Back away.”

And Elliott wanted to listen, he really did, but that asshole _kept talking_. “You’re _pathetic_. I can’t believe you actually made it this far with that kind of…”

“Dude, _shut up!_ ” shouted a new voice—Octane, from the sound of it. The comment was punctuated by an empty can being tossed directly at Meathead. It missed by a mile, but the point was made. “Get your lunch and _go away!_ Some of us are trying to _eat!_ ”

Meathead’s laser eyes turned to the lunch tables behind Elliott and narrowed. When Elliott glanced over his shoulder, he saw why: Octane wasn’t the only one inserting himself into the situation. From the way several people had stood up—mostly old guard Legends, people who Elliott knew pretty well and all of whom could kick Meathead’s ass ten ways to Sunday—they were prepared to _physically_ insert themselves into the situation. Even Natalie looked ready to throw down. Even _Crypto_ , who wasn’t standing but hand one hand on his dinner knife and both eyes fixed on the situation, looked ready to throw down.

Elliott was touched. And terrified. Mostly touched, though.

Meathead took in the situation and scoffed loudly. “ _Fine_.” He didn’t even bother grabbing lunch, just turned and stalked away. _Guess he does have some sense after all_ , Elliott thought. Then, _Great_ _, they all saw that. Good job looking stable, Elliott_.

“What an _ass_ ,” Octane said as he sat down. “You good, bro?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Elliott snapped. “He’s got a lot of nerve…”

“Don’t let him get to you,” Wraith said. “That’s what he wants.” She finally let her hand drop from his chest, as if she’d just realized it was still there. “ _Are_ you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m…” He breathed slowly. In and out. In and out. “I’m good. I’m good.”

And he was. Okay, he was mostly okay. He was still pissed, but he _was_ weirdly touched that all those people hated Meathead as much as he did. And Wraith had his back, which was always nice.

_Don’t think about that one too deeply, Elliott._

“I’m gonna…get something to eat and lie down.” Damn, when did he get so tired? Had all that yelling really taken so much out of him? “Yeah, I’m gonna do that.”

“Okay. Just promise that you won’t keep going after that guy.”

“I promise.” Elliott finally managed a smile, though it was partially fake. _Look, see, everything’s good_. “I’m good. Really.”

“Okay.” Wraith didn’t seem to buy it, but she did go back to her chair.

He could feel her eyes on him as he grabbed food and left.

He tried hard not to think about that one too deeply, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC Notes! Rousette's passive is that she has super-hearing and vibration sense (Daredevil-level, basically) that would put her in the "tracker" category. I have no other abilities for her beyond that, but her name is a reference to Leschenault's rousette, a kind of fruit bat native to India. Yes, she will steal your kneecaps.
> 
> The Spanish in this chapter is supposed to translate to "You're not worth my spit, you empty-headed moron. I will stab you in your sleep." but since it's google translate there's a non-zero chance it's All Kinds of Wrong. Forgive me if it is. Also, headcanon that Elliott switches to Spanish when he's really pissed because that's what his mom does.
> 
> Also also, shout out to AO3 user rkvian, who pointed out some accidental foreshadowing I made back in chapter one and is the sole reason this chapter was added to the then-incomplete outline. Thank you for pointing that out and giving me a good way to build up this inter-character conflict! And also space to vent about garbage randoms. (This chapter is, in fact, based off true experiences. I'm suffering.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm gonna update my Titanfall fic next so that I can keep rotating between-
> 
> My brain: Here's all the inspiration you need for the next chapter of your Miraith fic.
> 
> Me: ...okay, I guess.

Wraith stayed out of the arena longer than she originally planned.

It had nothing to do with her physical health and everything to do with how worried she was about Elliott. He was, physically, fine: regeneration went the way it should have, he was healing as normal, and he was covered financially so that wasn’t a concern. She was more worried about him emotionally. The fight with Meathead—the Hammer, James McCormick, whatever his name was, she didn’t care—was a greater cause for concern.

She didn’t think Elliott would do anything stupid. She could not say the same thing about Meathead. It was difficult to tell if he felt that their confrontation had ended in his favor. She had no doubt in her mind that if he _did_ feel like he’d lost, he would make life a living hell for Elliott. There was no way she was letting that happen.

Her plan was to keep an eye on Meathead until Elliott was feeling better. Once he could physically take care of himself without risking collapsing, she’d go back to her own business, as if nothing ever happened. Hopefully, he wouldn’t question why she wasn’t getting back into the swing of things. She might be able to play it off as her shoulder still acting up…maybe he’d go for it?

She’d feel terrible for lying to him, if it came down to that. But she’d feel worse if he knew the truth.

She tried to keep an eye on him from a distance. It meant that she didn’t have to talk to him, and didn’t have to risk the lying part. But it also gave other people an opening to talk to her.

“Does Witt owe you a favor, too?”

Wraith was startled from her staring by the sound of Crypto’s voice. Where had he come from? Why hadn’t the voices warned her? “No,” she said. “I just…don’t want the situation with that idiot McCormick to escalate. Mirage is useful. I’d prefer he not get his ass kicked before he has the chance to get back in the arena.” That was the truth, though there was no way she was letting him know the full extent of her motivations.

“Hmm.” Crypto didn’t say anything after that. He just ate his lunch, played on his phone, and occasionally glanced up at her like he was trying to get a read on her.

That, she realized, was exactly what he was doing. The bastard was trying to get a read on her. Damn it. She shouldn’t have helped him.

_it's okay._

Was it, though?

Wraith barely bit back a huff of frustration at the Voice’s very unhelpful input. She wanted to eat slowly, the way she always did, not leaving until Elliott did, but Crypto’s presence was setting her on edge. In the end, she got up for seconds and made a point of taking her time coming back. By the time she returned, he was gone.

The next day, he sat down at her table again, unspeaking, playing on his phone.

Her first instinct was to hate him for it.

But, she realized, this would be a good chance to figure out what his deal was. Why the voices were so damn intent on her helping him and being around him. It would also help take her mind off of Elliott. She only wanted to dedicate enough mental thought towards keeping him alive—no more, no less. Dwelling on her barely-suppressed feelings for him would make this already difficult task harder. So, on day three, she was the one to speak first.

“You from Solace?” she asked.

Crypto stopped mid-scroll and looked up at her. “What?”

“Are you from Solace? I know a lot of the Legends are.”

“…no.”

“Oh? Where are you from?”

“Where are _you_ from?”

Wraith had to bite back a smile. He asked the question in an almost childish way, how she imagined a younger sibling might respond. He knew it, too, if his grimace was anything to go off of. “Touché,” Wraith said in lieu of an answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—she _couldn’t_. She didn’t have an answer for most questions about her past. “Just trying to be friendly. We don’t know a lot about you.”

Crypto clearly didn’t like that. He eyed her coolly, as if trying to blow her head off with his mind. “Don’t think people know much about you, either.”

Damn it. He was good.

Wraith needed to defuse the situation. Her mind scrambled for potential solutions but the first thing out of her mouth…

“What’s your cat’s name?”

…probably still not the best thing to ask.

Or at least, she thought so, until she saw Crypto’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Hanna.”

The fondness in his voice felt genuine. Okay. It was safe to talk to him about his cat.

“How’d you convince the game masters to let her in?”

“I didn’t ask.” Wraith nearly laughed at the bluntness of his reply. “She’s not exactly a lethal weapon. You saw her.”

“That’s true. She seemed sweet.”

“She is. Too sweet for her own good.”

They didn’t talk much after that, but the atmosphere of their next lunch together felt different. It almost felt like they had a rapport. Their next conversation started when Crypto asked her about one of the other competitors. From there, it turned into a minor debate about the pros and cons of each Legend’s fighting style. It was a conversation she’d had a million times before, but it was interesting to have it with someone she didn’t know—someone whose responses she couldn’t predict, unlike Elliott or Pathfinder.

It was refreshing. She hadn’t realized how many of her personal interactions centered around those two until now. Maybe she should hang around other people for reasons _besides_ her Elliott-related angst.

The conversations were a welcome distraction from said angst, but not so distracting as to keep her away from her main goal. Elliott lay low for the first few days after his discharge; when he started making regular appearances out and about, he was noticeably more subdued, and didn’t spend a lot of time around people. He didn’t even spend a lot of time around her, whenever they did happen to sit together for meals or in the break areas.

He was probably still in pain and resting more than usual. She knew that. Him not being around was for the best. She knew that, too.

But that didn’t stop her from nursing a one-two punch of concern and disappointment.

There were times when she even thought that Elliott was avoiding her too, choosing to spend more time with Pathfinder, Natalie, the new guy Ashwin, or even Octane (which wasn’t _too_ out of the ordinary, but never this frequently, due to their love-hate semi-friendship). She squashed her feelings on the matter as best she could. He was allowed to have other friends. He could spend time around other people. That didn’t mean he was avoiding her. It was fine.

 _Don’t think about it, Wraith_.

Meathead stayed away, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being a potential problem. Wraith noticed that a few of the other newcomers started gravitating to him. The one Elliott called Shrimpy had been hovering since day one, and recently he’d been joined by some other kid who barely looked old enough to be there. Wraith had a bad feeling, but she decided to run it past Crypto, just for confirmation.

“It seem like McCormick is starting a posse to you?” she asked.

Crypto glanced across the cafeteria to where Meathead was sitting with his two new friends. “I was thinking the same,” he said. “I’m not surprised Wilson latched onto him. He seems like a follower to me. Orbits around the first physically strong and intimidating person he can find in the hopes it will wear off on him.”

“ _Ouch_. Harsh assessment.” Wilson was Shrimpy. Wraith hadn’t paid him too much attention before now, but looking back on what she had seen of him, Crypto seemed right. “And the kid? He gives me _kills small animals_ vibes.”

Crypto snorted quietly. “Jordan. You’re not wrong. I watched his last performance. He’s vicious. Here for blood, not money or fame.”

Wraith grimaced. That was never good. The _most dangerous game_ types were almost as bad as the glory hounds—worse, sometimes, depending on their brand of bloodthirsty. “So, basically, they’re made for each other.”

“Seems like it.”

“Shit.”

“Agreed.”

She conferred with Pathfinder and Elliott separately later in the day. Pathfinder said that it was good that the Hammer was making new friends, and maybe they could all be friends in the arena later. In hindsight, she wasn’t sure what else she expected him to say. She could at least be fairly certain Pathfinder didn’t mean _be friends_ in the way he might mean it with her or Elliott. He didn’t seem overly fond of Meathead either, though it showed more in cheerful, hyper-passive aggression than outright hatred or concern. At least _he_ wasn’t picking fights, nor did he seem to be on Meathead’s radar. She could only look after one squad mate at a time.

Elliott, meanwhile, was much more nervous about the situation. “Yeah, I don’t like that Jordan kid. They’re just going to egg each other on. Shrimpy’s…” He grimaced. “ _Myeh._ You know. He doesn’t look like much but I don’t like his vibe.”

“Vibe?”

“He gives me _villain crony who isn’t as dangerous but will stab you in your sleep if asked_ vibe. Kinda wormy, you know?” Wraith laughed, despite herself. “Too specific?”

“A bit, but…you’re not wrong. Crypto got a similar feel from him, too.”

Elliott’s face fell at the mention of Crypto. He recovered quickly, but she noticed. “What’s the deal with him, anyway? Is he bothering you?”

Oh. He’d noticed. “No, I…I’ve been trying to get a feel for him. I don’t know, I just…”

“…gut feeling?”

“Yeah, gut feeling.” Elliott knew what that meant, more or less. He didn’t know _everything_ , but he knew enough to trust her gut feelings as much as she did. “He’s observant. Could be good for an extra set of eyes and a fresh perspective.”

“I guess. Shame he’s kind of annoying.”

There was strain in his voice. She didn’t want to call him out, but… “He couldn’t have been _that_ bad a team mate.”

“No, he was fine, just…” Elliott sighed. “Nothing.”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s nothing, really. Personality clash. You know how it is.”

There had to be more to it than that. “I’m not _replacing_ you with him,” Wraith said. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to say that, but it was said. No taking it back now. “Okay?”

Elliott was slow to reply. She saw that look in his eyes—that look where he was trying to keep his cool and not doing a good job. He crossed his arms, suddenly looking smaller and weaker all over again. “Okay,” he said finally.

She felt a sudden urge to comfort him—rest a hand on his shoulder, even take his hand. The urge was powerful, and terrifying, and she resisted. It didn’t just feel like comfort. It felt like admitting to the very thing she’d been trying to avoid this entire time.

So she crossed her arms and said nothing.

Doing so hurt more than she thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, indeed, I made a fic-specific meme canon...Meathead is officially Forge. Yes, he does have a different stage name in this fic, but that will make sense later on. Not in this fic, but...later. I have plans.
> 
> Also, we getting JUICY now (featuring a dynamic I had not originally considered for this fic but then I realized as I was writing that yes...yes, this extra angst is exactly what the fic needs).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was gonna do a fake chapter with blacked-out text and talk about the Apex Blackout over on tumblr, but ultimately I decided not to because a) copy-pasting that much blacked-out text is too much for my possibly-ADHD ass and I'm struggling against my melatonin to post this as it is, and b) I feel a little weird talking about the blackout when I have regular commentors and know most of my exposure problems are due to tumblr's search function being complete ass. I'm incredibly fortunate and I couldn't figure out how to talk about it without sounding unappreciative of the support I have (especially in a time when I know that content consumption is a bit whack--I know I thought I'd be getting more done during these quarantimes but mostly I've been playing Animal Crossing, so I don't blame people for not staying on top of fic reading or art reblogging).
> 
> That said, in the spirit of the blackout (which is meant to draw awareness to the tepid support being shown to content creators on tumblr of late) if you are on tumblr, please remember that reblogs give more exposure than likes, and this is doubly so for fanfic. It's hard to spread around due to tumblr hiding posts with external links, and not everyone checks Ao3 obsessively. Also, if you see art reposters, let the original artist know so that they can take action! We've got to look out for each other out here. Also also, with regards to commenting, never worry about annoying a fic writer or leaving too short a comment. Trust me, I love every comment I receive, even if it's just "I like this!" or "How dare you", and seeing someone react to a fic real-time is always funny.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for the support you've given me, here's the actual for-real chapter! Quick note before starting: because the timeline I'm using is non-canon, you might notice some discrepancies about IMC/Militia relationships. Just know it's an AU thing and I'll explain more in the final author notes.

The only good thing to happen those next few days—almost two weeks if his calendar wasn’t lying to him—was that they finally set up living quarters on the planet surface. No more spending time on that awful hell ship with its stale air and endless metal corridors. He could finally open a window and get some sun if he wanted to.

Everything else was terrible.

Elliott always felt like garbage after regeneration—low-grade but constant pain, on-and-off itchiness as the injuries healed, an overall restless feeling that plagued his already restless mind, and constant hunger occasionally interrupted by bouts of nausea. His only solace was that Meathead was feeling just as bad.

Actually, that was another good thing. And a third good thing was that Rousette was doing okay. She found Elliott and thanked him for covering her medical bill. “…the receptionist told you?” he asked, not sure if he should feel surprised.

“Not exactly. He just said a team mate did it and I know it wasn’t the Hammer.” She rolled her eyes. “But…thank you. I mean it.”

“No problem.” Her gratitude was obvious; there was probably a lot more to her story than just a desire for fame and glory. There was a non-zero amount of people who only joined up for the minimum number of games because they needed money and needed it badly—guys like Ashwin, who openly spoke about it. Rousette wasn’t so vocal, but he got a feeling. “Will I be seeing you out there again?”

She hesitated. That said a lot, too. “Most likely,” she said. “Hopefully on the same team again…but with a different third.”

Elliott smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

So, yeah, that was three good things.

But those three good things were drowned out by the rest of it. And the emotional pain of his unshakable crush. That was pretty bad, too.

Elliott tried to soothe that by stepping away and spending more time with other people. Sometimes it was easy—he already had a rapport with Pathfinder and Natalie, and even Octane (who was a pain in the ass, but good for a distraction). He even started hanging around Ashwin. It wasn’t something he would’ve done normally—he got the vibe that the simulacrum was trying to take him under his robotic wing just because he was related to Jack Cooper. He didn’t want to be babied just because he was related to the Hero of Harmony. But it was a good distraction, and Ashwin was pretty okay. He had a good eye for strategy and didn’t go on and on about old war stories. Mostly he just talked shit about the other competitors and how much of a dump Angel City was (all while insisting he’d never leave).

All of this was fine. He was doing okay. He even got a little hopeful that he could move on from his traitorous emotions. But there was just one problem.

Wraith started hanging out with Crypto.

Nothing weird or overly-friendly was happening between them; they were just _sitting_ together, talking a bit, only at lunch and/or dinner as far as he could tell. Still, the sight set off every single nerve in his body. Was Crypto talking shit about him? Muscling in on _his_ team mate? Except, no, that was a stupid thing to think. He didn’t own Wraith. Wraith could talk to anyone she wanted to. Hell, maybe she didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe he was being a pain in the ass.

Elliott tried to comfort himself with that thought. It was the one thread keeping his tenuous emotional sanity intact.

And then Wraith admitted that she wanted to talk to Crypto.

She had good enough reasoning—if her gut was telling her to talk to the guy, she probably should. Wraith’s gut feelings had never let them down. But _why did it have to be Crypto?_

And why, of all the things she could’ve said to Elliott in that conversation, did she have to say that she wasn’t replacing him with Crypto? Because now it was all he could think about.

If he was being honest, he’d already been thinking it. Deep down, he was constantly terrified that people were going to replace him with other, cooler guys who brought more to the table in terms of _personality_ and _looks_ and _not being a needy, scatter-brained mess of a person._ He’d seen firsthand that Crypto was confident, talented, cool. Arguably, he was cooler than Elliott.

How long would it be before Wraith took notice, and then Elliott had to watch…

_Okay,_ but this was stupid. It was stupid because Elliott wasn’t making a move. Because Wraith could hang out with or date whoever she wanted. Because being jealous that she was making other friends and maybe dating them was _intensely_ needy and gross of him. He might’ve been pathetic, but he wasn’t _that_ pathetic.

Or that was what he’d thought _before_ this.

The cycle of jealousy he couldn’t stop and resentment towards himself for feeling that way settled in that evening and didn’t let up. He reached a point where he did pretty much everything in his room, only leaving long enough to get what he needed before slinking back.

He didn’t think anyone would notice. He was wrong about that.

“Are you okay?” Natalie asked.

Elliott wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Natalie was pretty perceptive, especially to the routines of others, and he’d been anything _but_ predictable lately. “I’m good…I mean, I got regenerated, and that sucks…”

“Have you had any complications?” she asked, concerned.

“No, no, nothing like that.” _I’m just struggling with the fact that Wraith might fall for my mortal enemy…ugh, did I just think of Crypto as my mortal enemy? Am I really that far gone?_ “I’m just…tired and it’s been a lot.”

“I understand.” Natalie hesitated; the way she shifted from foot to foot said that she was thinking, so Elliott waited for her to figure it out. “I’m experimenting with some new electronics…not for the arena, just for fun. Would you like to help?”

Honestly, Elliott didn’t know shit about Natalie’s technology, but he always enjoyed listening to her talk about it. It kind of reminded him of Mom. “Sure. I’ll hold your tools for you.”

As Elliott expected, he barely had any idea what Natalie was talking about once she got started. It looked like some kind of portable power source—definitely nothing that could be used in the ring, but definitely fun. Elliott was so engrossed in the process (even though most of it was going in one ear and out the other) that he almost missed they had an audience.

“So, can I touch it?” Octane asked when Natalie stopped for a breath.

Elliott turned around, startled. Octane was sitting on one of the work benches with Lifeline nearby. She was in the process of rolling her eyes at the comment. “ _Non,_ ” Natalie scolded gently. “It won’t kill you, but it will hurt.”

“ _Hah!_ I don’t feel pain anymore.”

“He absolutely feels pain,” Lifeline said, deadpan.

“Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She has a medical degree, right?” Elliott said. “I’m pretty sure they don’t give you a D.O.C. unless you have a medical degree.”

Lifeline pointed at Elliott with one of her drum sticks. “See? At least he knows what’s up.”

“Kiss-ass,” Octane said with a dramatic eye roll. “What are you doing that for, anyway? New ultimate?”

“No, just for fun,” Natalie said. “How are you two?”

“Bored. Sore. Oh, Witt, McCormick was talking shit. Just thought you should know.”

Elliott completely forgot who McCormick was for a solid five seconds. When he remembered… “Yeah, well, tell him he can shove it up his ass,” Elliott snapped, turning his attention back to Natalie’s invention. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

And he really didn’t. But he also kind of did. But he knew that the second he heard about how Meathead was talking shit, it’d just send him off the handle again. He was already cagey because of the Crypto and Wraith thing, and he didn’t want the extra straws snapping his mental camel or however the saying went. So he bit his tongue, watched Natalie work, and tried very hard not to think about it.

Despite his best efforts, the thought lingered, nagging at his brain like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He hated it almost as much as he hated that roided-up bastard and his garbage team work.

That hatred almost came to a tipping point at lunch a few days later, when Meathead sat down at the table right next to Elliott’s. He didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything. He just sat there. Chewing loudly. Staring at Elliott.

Elliott tried to breathe through it. He tried not to take the bait. He really tried, he honestly did, but _shit_ , he was…angry? Miserable? A swirling mixture of the two was probably the best description. Nothing made sense and everything felt like it was too much and for the first time since middle school he just wanted to _hit something…_

“Are you allergic?”

Elliott’s gaze snapped away from Meathead and towards the speaker. “What?”

Crypto was standing there. With a cat. A cat? What? Since when did he have a cat? “Are you allergic?” Crypto repeated.

“Uhm…n-no?”

“Here.” Crypto abruptly dropped the cat in his lap. “She’ll try to steal the fish if I take her up to the line. I’ll be right back.”

He walked away, leaving Elliott to stare blankly after him. _Uh, what just happened?_

“Mrow?”

Elliott looked down in time to see the cat reaching a tiny paw towards the aforementioned fish on his plate. “Ah, no, don’t do that…” He pushed his plate out reach. “I don’t know if you can have that.”

The cat mewed again, more indignantly this time, still trying to reach the plate. Elliott laughed. “Okay, stubborn…if you get sick, your owner might kill me.” Elliott looked around. Crypto was in line; it looked like he was talking to Bangalore. “What’s his deal, anyway? Does he always pawn you off on strangers?”

Elliott heard an irritated huff; he glanced up just in time to see Meathead standing up and walking back towards the food line. Elliott kept his gaze fixed on the guy as he walked past, only looking away once he was sure Meathead wasn’t going to turn around and start anything. “That guy’s an asshole,” he whispered quietly to the cat. “Avoid him at all costs.”

The cat purred and rubbed her face against Elliott’s chin. “Aww…” And just like that, he felt a lot less miserable. “You’re pretty good. Definitely too good for Crypto.” Elliott heard footsteps, too light to be Meathead’s, but too heavy to be Crypto’s. _What now?_

“Hey, this seat taken?” Bangalore asked.

“Uhm…no?” Elliott frowned as he looked at her. Bangalore was…okay, he guessed, but he’d always been under the impression that she thought he was an idiot and wanted nothing to do to him. “You, uh, really want to sit here?”

Bangalore sat down, positioning herself between him and the space where Meathead was sitting. “You looked ready to start a fight and if you do, I want in.”

“…no, I wasn’t, but…” Okay, that was partially a lie. It wasn’t something he’d usually do, but he had come kind of close there. “Why? You really hate him that much?”

“Son of a bitch grabbed my waist on the firing range.”

If Elliott had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it back out at that comment. “Hold on, he laid hands on you while you were at the range…and you let him live?”

Bangalore laughed. “I’m not looking to get kicked out of the games. I thought about it, though.” After a pause, she casually added, “Shame what happened to his car today, though.”

“…what happened to his car today?”

Bangalore just smiled.

Elliott still wasn’t sure how he felt about Bangalore. He was a Militia kid, a point of personal pride if he was being honest, and she was an IMC kid. Even if the two factions _technically_ had a peace accord that had been in place since he was a kid…well, his dad had died during the Frontier Wars. That was enough to make even talking to her feel like fraternizing with the enemy.

That said: enemy of my enemy and whatever. He could let himself commiserate with her about how much Meathead sucked. Because Meathead _really_ sucked.

“He’s coming back,” Bangalore said.

Elliott nearly glanced over his shoulder, but made himself stop. _Calm down. Calm down. Calm down._ He gently pet the cat to try and soothe his latent rage. The cat purred louder. Elliott wasn’t even mad that he couldn’t eat his damn fish without risking it being fishnapped. She was _really_ cute.

_Still, where’s Crypto gone off to?_

Just as he thought that, Crypto was at his side. Well, there went his good mood. “You want her back?” Elliott asked.

“That depends. Are you going to get up and start throwing punches if I take her?”

“… _no_ …”

Crypto picked up his cat and left without another word.

Elliott stared after him, his brain slowly putting two and two together. “…did he ask you to come over here?” he asked Bangalore.

She shrugged. “Said he wanted to eat lunch in peace for once and that I should stop you if you did anything stupid.”

That did make some sense. Still, Elliott couldn’t get it out of his head that maybe this was Crypto trying to ingratiate himself with Wraith’s known pre-made squad, and therefore with her. Like sucking up to someone’s Dad before asking them out.

That wasn’t the greatest though to have in his head, but it did distract him from Meathead, who eventually left when he realized that Bangalore and Elliott were just going to talk about the pros and cons of the new gun and ignore him. It was nice to not have to think about him for a change.

That only lasted about 24 hours.

“Excuse me, Elliott Witt?”

Oh, no, reporters. At least he’d done his hair today. His outfit was…okay, it was jeans and a t-shirt but he’d looked sloppier. Elliott turned around and fixed his most winning smile on his face. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Lisa Stone, OTV.” Elliott recognized her. She’d done his solo interview back when he first joined up. Probably just wanted to ask him how he was recovering. “I won’t take too much of your time. I was just hoping for a response.”

“Response to…what, exactly?”

“I recently conducted an interview with Jimmy McCormick…” _Ah, shit_. “…and he had some strong words about your abilities as a team mate and a Legend.”

“Oh, did he?” There was that urge to hit someone again—one person in particular. “What exactly did he say about me?”

“He said he was curious as to how you ended up a champion to begin with and that you should consider yourself lucky he was on your team. Do you have any response?”

Usually, he’d say no. Elliott might’ve been fairly confident in his wit (it was in his surname and all), but he tried to avoid getting in public pissing contests with people. No one had asked him to get into scripted beef with another competitor, so there wasn’t much incentive to do it.

But _this_ time…

“Yeah, I’ve got a response.” Elliott looked right into her tiny hovering camera, running the sentence through his mind once to make sure he knew what he wanted to say. “Hey, Meathead. You want to take me out? Come find me next time. I’ll make the drinks.”

He was proud of himself for not stuttering, raising his voice, or giving any sign that he’d lost his cool. Being able to hit back, was, in the moment, intensely gratifying, even if it was just an indirect verbal jab via news interview.

It took him about five minutes after Lisa Stone walked away to regret it.

_He’s actually gonna hunt me down next match we have together, huh?_

Well…he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

Hopefully Elliott would be able to handle the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, when I made the timeline I made for these fics, I was running on the assumption that the space between Titanfall 2 and Apex Legends was thirty years (turns out it might not be but oh, well, I've already committed, this is an AU timeline, whatever). Since I wanted these fics to have an actual happy ending for my sweet boys Jack Cooper and BT-7274, I couldn't conceive of there being three decades of warfare in their future. So...short version, the IMC and the Militia do eventually stop fighting, but there's still the Remenant Fleet and extremist factions from both sides to deal with, so it's been PEACEFUL but not COMPLETELY without conflict (hence Elliott's brothers going missing). I actually referenced this in Old Wounds, if anyone remembers that fic.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as screechthemighty for Everything Blogging and respawncinematicuniverse for Oops, All Apex/Titanfall Blogging. Expect to see more Apex on my main blog because the season 5 trailer is in a few days and I cannot Wait to see how juicy it gets.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the person who messaged me on tumblr to say nice things about the fic. It was very sweet and I appreciated it. (Also, I should probably be in bed, but y'know what, time's not real, I don't have church tomorrow, that's a problem for Tomorrow Me.)

She would’ve stayed out longer if it were up to her. But the game masters were starting to lean take notice of her absence, and she knew that Meathead would be in the next match. That meant she wouldn’t have to keep an eye on the situation with Elliott, and a new match would give her a chance to start searching for more information.

But Elliott was still out after his regen and Pathfinder had a tune-up that day. She could’ve done a randoms match, but it was exhausting just to think about it. So, she tried a plan B.

“You up for a match?” Wraith asked Crypto at dinner. “There’s one in three days and I’d prefer to go in pre-mades.”

Crypto looked up at her. After two weeks, she thought she was starting to get a feel for him. That stare was thoughtful, probing, trying to get a feel for why she might be asking. “...Sure,” he said finally. “Do you have a third?”

“Not yet, but if you have any suggestions…”

Crypto shrugged. “Anyone but McCormick.”

“Fair enough.” As Wraith glanced up, she happened to catch sight of a semi-familiar figure. “How about Rousette? Elliott... _Mirage_ thinks she has potential.”

“You really trust his judgment?”

“Most of the time.” She hoped she didn’t sound too defensive. Crypto would definitely notice if she did, and for all she knew, he was already speculating about her and Elliott. Could’ve been her paranoia talking, but it was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. “He definitely knows talent when he sees it.”

“If you think so.”

She did, so she approached Rousette after dinner. Rousette agreed without question or hesitation. Wraith made sure to read up on her before the match--tracker, primarily, could hear and feel people coming from far off, had sensors to expand her range and the ability to use some of them as flash-bangs. All promising, and all things Wraith could use for her detour.

Assuming could convince them to take said detour.

Fortunately, the stars seemed to align for her at the start of the match. She got jumpmaster, and the area she wanted to search was off most people’s radar. It was also far from the first ring, but she could be quick. She’d done this before.

“I’m going to take a look around,” Wraith said to Rousette once they landed. “Do you think you can hold the place down? I don’t want to be taken by surprise.”

Rousette nodded. “I can do that, but...ring’s going to be closing and we have what we need. What are you looking for?”

“I just have a feeling.” She realized that excuse wasn’t going to fly with strangers, so she amended it, “I heard the loot drops here were good, you just have to work for it. And sometimes the game masters like to hide things around the map. I figured it couldn’t hurt to look while we’re not being swarmed.”

The second part was true; the first part was complete bullshit. She only felt a little bad for lying, though she probably should’ve felt worse. Maybe later she’d reconsider, but for now she just wanted to find what she was looking for and get out. Rousette, at least, wasn’t asking too many questions, and had even taken to looking around the lower levels of the building. Crypto sounded more skeptical, but went along with it.

Wraith slipped into the first office-looking area that she found. To her relief, the computer booted up. To her greater relief, the logo that flashed across the screen was a familiar one. This _had_ been an IMC settlement. This match really was looking up.

It didn’t take her long to realize she’d thought that too soon.

The computer systems were unlike anything she’d encountered back in King’s Canyon. After a minute and a half, she realized she wasn’t making any progress. And then, as if the universe wanted to add more pressure besides the ticking clock on her wrist display…

“The ring’s closing. Where are you?”

“Bit busy.” Wraith gritted her teeth and hoped Crypto didn’t hear how tense she sounded. “I know the ring’s closing. We’ve still got time.”

“Not much. I’m not looking to lose.”

“Neither am I, just _give me a second._ ”

Crypto gave her fifteen seconds exactly. Then, without warning, he was opened the door to the office and glared at her. “What the _hell_ are you doing?!” he said.

“I’m…” Shit. “Just give me _five seconds._ ”

“We _have to go._ ”

“I can’t leave, I’m not done yet.”

“Done with _what?!_ ”

“I’m…”

She froze. She didn’t know what to say. She should’ve thought of a cover story, but she’d honestly thought she would be done and on the move by now. Crypto looked at the computers, then her, then back to the computers. “...move,” he said, stepping into the room.

“...what…?”

“ _Move_. I need to get to the computer.” Wraith got up and out of his way. Crypto sat down and started rummaging through his pockets. “How long will it take you to get us a portal?”

“Not...not too long, why?”

“You get us a way out. I’ll meet you at the other end.” He finally pulled something out of his pocket and plugged it in. The computer’s screen glitched briefly, and she saw an icon pop up in the corner, a stylized hooded figure. “This won’t take long, but we’ll be pushing it if you wait for me.”

Wraith hesitated. Her first instinct was to say, but…

_it’s okay. go._

She turned and walked out of the room.

Rousette was waiting on the first floor, more loaded up on shotgun ammo than she had been last time Wraith saw her and looking antsy. “Where were you?!” she asked.

“Sorry, got held up. I’ll set us up a portal. Once it opens, go through. Crypto’s going to meet us on the other side.” She checked that her ultimate timer had reached full and that the device strapped to her wrist was secure and active. “I won’t be able to get us to the ring, but I can get us close, so be ready to run.”

Fortunately, Rousette kept her questions to herself, instead nodding and checking that her own equipment was secure.

Wraith took a deep breath and held out her hand.

Trying to explain to others how her abilities worked was difficult--mostly because she wasn’t sure how they worked herself. She knew that there were things she could do on her own, but the device strapped to her arm--the one the voices had whispered to her and shown her in dreams, that she’d cobbled together from whatever materials she could get her hands on over the years--gave her precision, kept her on track and from ending up somewhere far from where she went to be. She knew that the void was cold, and dark. But it was welcoming, too.

Wraith opened the first breach and took off running.

Her world was quiet, which meant she could hear the whispers of the void more clearly. She tried not to let them distract her too much, or the glimpses of herself that she sometimes caught out of the corner of her eye, but a few times, she stopped to offer a bit of advice. _behind. he’s aiming right at you. grenade._ One time, she could’ve sworn another her made fleeting eye contact before the image of her faded.

_you’re on the right path_ , she heard, but she wasn’t sure if that was meant for her.

The device started blinking rapidly. She let go of the energy swirling through her, suddenly stepping through an open portal and back into the light of World’s Edge. Rousette appeared next to her a second after, blinking in surprise and looking around. “...spooky,” she said finally.

“You get used to it,” Wraith replied.

“I’ll take your word for it. How long does that thing stay up?”

“Sixty seconds.”

“Will Crypto…?”

“He said he would.” She just hoped he wasn’t overestimating himself.

She shouldn’t have worried. He was at their side forty seconds later. He, like Rousette, looked a little unsettled when he stepped through, but he didn’t comment on it. “Did you…?” Wraith asked.

“Yes. We’ll talk later,” he said. He started jogging foward. “Come on. I’m not dying in the ring.”

Wraith wanted to argue, but he was right. Now wasn’t a time. Still, she was starting to understand why Elliott didn’t like him very much. Before she could jog after him, Rousette grabbed her arm. “Hey, do I want to know?” she asked.

“...no, probably not.”

“Okay.” Rousette let go and started after Crypto. “I didn’t hear anything. Damn hearing aids cut out.”

Wraith barely hid a smile as she followed. And now she understood why Elliott had liked Rousette.

As much as she wanted to corner Crypto and find out what he’d done, there wasn’t time. The match picked up as everyone was funneled into the ring, and with the amount of choke points this place had, Wraith had to stay focused on the match. They worked together well, though—Crypto’s drone had its advantages, and Rousette’s early warning system sometimes worked faster than Wraith’s did. They worked efficiently, and before Wraith knew it, they were down to one squad.

Just one problem.

“You’re sure they’re up there?” Wraith asked.

“Yeah, full squad.” Rousette had her cheek pressed against the wall. They were on top floor, standing near what had once been an elevator shaft, but now held a zipline. “They probably know we’re coming, but good news…” She held up one of her devices and smiled. “I’ve got an ultimate ready.”

“I do as well,” Crypto said. “Those are just lights and noise, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He held out his drone to her. “Do they stick to anything?”

Wraith snorted quietly. “Good thought.” Rousette carefully stuck the device to the side of Crypto’s drone. As she did, Wraith took a second to check the scoreboard and see who was up there.

_Bolt. Mongoose. Hammer._

Meathead.

“…hey, Rousette.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want McCormick, or can I have him?”

Rousette actually thought about it. “…he threw you off a cliff, right?”

“He did.”

“You can have him.”

“Thanks.” It was petty, and arguably immoral, but she was past caring. All she could think about was that bastard humiliating her, then abandoning Elliott. He could stand to be put in his place. “Ready when you two are.”

They split up to cover multiple angles, Crypto and Rousette taking the stairs, Wraith taking the zipline. They wouldn’t have long once the EMP and flash-bang went off, so they knew they had to move. Wraith breathed slowly as they counted down, focusing, preparing.

_Three. Two. One…_

The noise from the roof was incredible—a shrieking siren and the loud _crack_ of the EMP going off and their shields breaking. Wraith shot up the zip line, emerging just as the flashing stopped and the shrieking started to die down. Her eyes fixed on Meathead. He was struggling, staggering back at the sound. And standing near the ledge.

The shots she fired off into his chest would’ve been enough to down him. It was all she needed, and staying at a distance was a safer option. But, compelled by some dark and vindictive impulse, she charged forward and leaped, slamming both feet into his chest as he started to slump forward. She hit the ground with a _thump_ —he went over the edge with a yelp. She heard more shots; one body hit the ground not too far from her, while another collapsed right beside her. It was silent for a second, then…

“ _We have a winner._ ”

Rousette shouted something in a language Wraith wasn’t familiar with. Wraith breathed a sigh of relief. Crypto stood over her and held out a hand; she took it to get up. “That was a bit much,” he noted, tilting his head in the direction Meathead had fallen.

“He’ll be fine.” Despite her words, Wraith did feel that split second of uneasiness at the sight of the lifeless bodies around her. They could be regenerated, she knew they could, but…that moment was always there. She took it as a good sign. At least she still had something of a conscience. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

She was a bit scraped and figured she would probably be sore tomorrow. But she hadn’t hit her head on impact, so she’d recover. They’d won. They were all alive.

That was something.

Wraith spent most of the trip back trying to figure out the best way to dodge reporters. Elliott had mentioned that Crypto didn’t like giving interviews, and she didn’t want to leave Rousette to answer questions alone. She spent so much time prepping herself mentally, under the assumption that Crypto would bail, that it was a genuine shock when he stayed.

He wasn’t a very good interviewee, giving one-word answers and sometimes ignoring questions entirely. But he did stay, which meant fewer questions for her. She appreciated that.

She appreciated it even more when he actually pulled her aside to talk after the interview was done. “The files still need decrypting, but everything is here.” Crypto held up a data stick. “I didn’t know what you wanted so I grabbed all of it.”

“…thank you.”

“Hmm.” Crypto made no move to hand over the stick, instead staring at her intensely. “I don’t owe you anymore?”

Oh, right. She’d forgotten about that. “No.”

“Good.” He still made no move to hand over the stick. “It must be important, if you were willing to risk your life for it.”

_He won’t give it to me until I tell him something, will he?_

Wraith weighed her options. She could have just taken it, but he’d stuck his neck out for her. He might have technically owed her one for what had happened in the hallway, but she felt like she owed _him_ now. She couldn’t just walk away without some kind of explanation.

But how could she explain everything to him?

“…the IMC took something from me,” she said finally. “It was a long time ago, but…I’m trying to get it back.” That was the shortest summary, the only way she could explain the void of her early memories and the pain that had marked so much of her life without going into detail. “The games are built on old IMC facilities…”

“And you were hoping to find the information there,” Crypto finished. There was something different in his voice when he spoke. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was understanding. He fiddled with the data stick, then sighed. “I can decrypt the information for you. And…if I wereto be looking at computers around the arena…what would you want to know?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She was, for a moment, tempted to take the stick and run, but…

_it's okay._

There was that voice again.

And she might have resisted, if she weren’t so sick of the dead ends she’d been hitting. How difficult to parse through the Singh Labs data had been. How she had barely scratched the surface there before being pulled away to this new map. How it had been months and she felt like she’d gotten nowhere.

This could be her chance, and if she had to risk trusting someone she’d only known a few weeks…

“Anything about scientific research in the area…phase shift technology especially, but whatever you can find.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have clarified that—it may have been too much information. But she probably shouldn’t have been trusting him at all. Might as well throw that extra crumb of information out there. “Why are you helping me?”

Crypto grimaced slightly. “…I’ve had things taken from me too.” He pocketed the data stick. “I’ll get this back to you tomorrow morning.”

She could’ve pushed the matter, but she didn’t want to. They were on thin ice now as it was. Besides, that sentence told her most of what she needed to know. “Thank you,” she said.

Crypto nodded, started to turn around, then turned back to her. “McCormick has been talking about Witt a lot.”

She’d heard. She was shocked that Elliott hadn’t done anything about it, that one interview aside. “Yeah.”

“You might want to tell him to watch his back. And you should watch yours. I don’t think he likes being humiliated.”

He was probably right about that. Wraith hadn’t considered that in the moment, and now she was kicking herself for it. “Thanks.” _Great_. _More reasons to be paranoid._ “I’ll see you later.”

“ _Najung-e boja_.” He waved slightly as he walked away. “Good match.”

“Yeah. Good match.”

Wraith stood in place for a moment after Crypto left. It felt like there had been a shift in the relationship. She wondered if he felt the same.

_Look at me, making friends._ Allies more like it, but it was close.

Wraith ran into Elliott on her way to her room. He froze when he saw her, staring as if he weren’t sure how to speak. She wasn’t sure how to speak to him, either. Their relationship had felt so strange lately, almost strained. She knew that was partially her fault, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

Or if it could be fixed without cracking open her heart and letting everything she felt spill out.

Elliott spoke before she could: “Good win.”

“Thanks. You were, uhm, you were right about Rousette.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid.” Elliott cleared his throat. “That was, uh…good kick. With Meathead, I mean. He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

“Probably. I thought I’d get one in for both of us, though.”

Elliott smiled. “Thanks. I don’t think anyone’s kicked a guy off a roof for me before.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

They both laughed, slightly, then settled back into an awkward silence. Again, it was Elliott who broke it. “Well, I won’t keep you, I know you probably want to rest…congrats. Really.”

“Thank you.”

He walked away, gone as suddenly as he was there. Wraith stared after him long after he’d left.

It felt like something had shifted in their relationship too—or, more accurately, like it was suddenly in flux. Tossed in the air like a coin.

She didn’t know which side it would fall on.

It felt like, no matter which side, she was going to lose. It was just a matter of which loss would be the least painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Screech, why didn't Rousette use her flash-bang thingie in the last chapter she was in" that's because I hadn't thought of all her abilities yet, shh. Just...pretend she saved it for the final push and that was what helped her get second. (Also, Wraith's abilities work slightly differently in the fic than they do in canon--basically in the fic she can inherently jump and make portals because [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] but the device she wears helps her regulate that energy so it's less painful/more precise/doesn't leave her stuck in the Void and unable to get out. You can ask if you'd like more info but some of that info might also be redacted for spoilers so fair warning.)
> 
> Next two chapters may take a bit to write due to the nature of their content but...at the same time, I've had those chapters in my head since I started plotting this fic, so we'll see. Also, you might hate me once they're posted. Also also, I realized the chapter y'all might hate me for the most is chapter 13 and that was not intentional. Anyways, enough teasers, time for sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said that the next two chapters might take a while...well...turned out that was a freaking lie for one of them. NEXT one might take a while (fight scenes...) but I'm not going to make any more promises about length because my brain is fickle and my muse can surprise me sometimes.

Her win last time put a lot of eyes on her. Wraith tried to stay out of the limelight for as long as she could, but the game masters were breathing down her neck again and she knew she couldn’t stay away forever. She’d been testing their good graces during her last long absence. Testing them more would be career suicide.

At least Pathfinder wasn’t busy and Elliott was better by the next big match. They both agreed to pre-mades, despite the weirdness between her and Elliott. Wraith was relieved; it would be a lot easier to look for information when it was the three of them. She could’ve asked Crypto, but he had gone ahead and joined a different pre-made with Ashwin Narita and Lifeline when she wasn’t looking. She didn’t resent him for that. She _couldn’t_ , not when he’d handed her a data stick so full of information that she hadn’t been able to go through all of it yet.

“Hope I don’t see you down there,” she told him as she walked past on the drop ship.

He didn’t look up from his computer, but he _did_ smile. _Maybe we’re friends after all._

She took stock of the inhabitants of the ship as she settled down in her corner. Some regulars she recognized, some newcomers, and…

“Ah, shit, that guy again?” Elliott asked irritably.

Wraith saw who she was talking about. Meathead had settled down in a corner. Shrimpy—Mongoose, Wilson, whatever you wanted to call him—had scurried over to his side and was whispering into his ear. Whatever he said, it made Meathead smile.

Her stomach sank.

It wasn’t just the realization that she’d be going up against that asshole again, that of _course_ the match was scheduled right as his recovery time was over. Something was wrong. No voice had told her that something was wrong, but she could _feel it_. She looked at Elliott to see if he felt it, too. He seemed to be making a point of avoiding looking at Meathead. Pathfinder seemed chipper as ever. No one else seemed to have the same feeling of dread that she did.

It was probably irrational, but she couldn’t shake it off.

It only grew stronger as they got onto their drop platforms. Elliott was jumpmaster. As Wraith waited for him to decide and tried to breathe through the nervousness…

_don't jump._

What?

She couldn’t do taht. They were on the platform; the only way she’d be able to back out was if she tapped out, and she couldn’t abandon the rest of the team like that. But the thought persisted: _don’t jump. you can’t jump. it’s not safe, don’t do it.._

“How about here?”

“That sounds good to me, friend!”

_don't do it, don’t do it, **don’t do it…**_

“Yeah,” Wraith said aloud. She thought she might throw up. Why was this happening? Why was she so terrified? “Okay, sounds good.”

_don't, don’t, don’t…_

“ _Hey, Witt!_ ” someone called from another platform.

Too late. They’d already stepped out. Her jump pack should’ve kicked in right away, but the second before it did lasted too long.

And then her entire world went into a tailspin.

* * *

Ashwin could still smell.

Hammond might’ve been a bunch of bastards who’d shoved his brain in a robot-shaped jar without his consent, but at least that brain-shaped jar could do _some_ things his original’s body could. The scent sensors in his metal head did a pretty decent job, and since his robot brain worked more or less the same way a flesh brain did, he had a pretty good scent memory.

He’d spent years fighting as a mercenary and Titan pilot. He knew the smell of jump kit fuel very well, especially because it was a smell that meant _danger_. Your kit was leaking. Someone’s kit was leaking. Someone’s kit could _explode_ , which could be _very_ fatal. The Apex Legends kits might’ve been modified slightly to account for the lack of training on the part of the participants, but the smell was the same, and he was sure the effects would be, too.

“Hold on,” Ashwin said.

The other two—Kim and Che—froze. “What…?”

“Kit check.” They stared at him blankly. Oh, right, he wasn’t with trained soldiers anymore. “Your kit, let me see your jump kits!”

They both turned around. He was good at the kit check by now, and could get it done quickly. No damage to either of them. He didn’t trust them to know what kit damage looked like, so he pulled his off to check it. “What’s wrong?” Che asked.

“I smell fuel. Someone’s kit’s damaged.” But it wasn’t his, either. He started looking around the drop ship as he strapped his back on. These people might’ve technically been his enemy for the next few hours, but if someone’s jump kit had malfunctioned, they needed to know. “Do you _smell_ that?”

The platforms started lowering. Shit, he needed to act fast. A bunch of people jumped almost immediately, but no one exploded, so it wasn’t any of them. Ashwin tried to hazard a guess based on where the smell was coming from, and as he kept looking…

_There._ There, definitely there. Elliott Witt, Cooper’s cousin’s kid. He had to focus to tell, but it looked like something had come loose on his pack. He must not have noticed yet. “Elliott… _Elliott!_ ” Ashwin called.

He couldn’t hear. It was too damn windy out there. It was probably against match rules, but Ashwin was past caring about match rules. He jumped to the next platform over (eliciting concerned shouts from Che, which he appreciated but ignored), and then the next. “ _Hey, Witt!_ ” he yelled.

Too late. Witt was jumping, along with the rest of his team.

Ashwin froze, praying he’d been wrong.

He wasn’t.

* * *

The Apex Legends were a place of blood and violence. Bad things happened—that was the nature of the game. You accepted it, or you didn’t participate. Tae Joon didn’t feel a particular amount of sympathy for the competitors. They knew what they were getting into when they signed up. If they got hurt, they got hurt. If they were killed, well, hopefully they had enough money for a regeneration. It wasn’t his problem.

But this was different. Not because he happened to know (and, on a deep level he didn’t like to acknowledge, even liked) one of the people involved. Because this _wasn’t normal._ The game masters might’ve put all manner of hazards in the arena, but malfunctioning jump kits were not part of that list. So when he heard the miniature explosions and saw Wraith’s team suddenly split off into erratic flight patterns, he _knew._

This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong.

Narita jumped back to their jump platform. “We have to go after them,” he said, his robotic voice sounding panicked in a distinctly organic way. “I know I’m not the jump master, but they could be really hurt and I _don’t_ think they’ll stop the games for that.”

“They won’t,” Tae Joon said grimly. But he wasn’t the jump master, and it wasn’t up to him. “Che?”

Lifeline examined the spiraling jump trails of Wraith’s team and stepped back. “We’ll _try_ ,” she said.

And they did. But each of the trails was spinning off in different directions, all erratically. Tae Joon quickly gave up trying to predict where they would be landing, and instead kept an eye on the skies around them. It would be just like some of the animals in this game to try and third party them in the middle of a crisis.

There wasn’t anyone pursuing _them._ But he did notice one team split up and start following members of Wraith’s team. He couldn’t quite tell, but from the size and shape of the competitor…

Their descent slowed. Tae Joon hit the ground running, darting to cover and pulling out his drone. “I saw one go for Lava City, one…shit, I think the Dome? One behind us,” Narita said. Tae Joon could hear the slight squeaking of metal as the simulacrum shifted in place anxiously. “ _Shit_.”

“There was another team dropping after them,” Tae Joon said. He was in the process of testing the range limits of his drone, sending it out in roughly the direction of the Dome. The feed started cutting out before he saw anything. _Damn it._ “I think it was McCormick.”

“Oh, that… _mmm,_ I don’t like that guy.” Tae Joon heard a supply bin open nearby. “Okay, unpopular opinion, maybe, but I’m going after them. You can come with me or not, but I need to make sure they’re okay.”

“Do you think they’re hurt?” Lifeline asked. “They’re still registering as in the match.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t have broken bones or aren’t…bleeding out somewhere. You ever had a miniature jet pack explode on your lower back? Because I have. _I_ was out of commission for a while and I’m a damn _robot_.” Narita paused. “I just…I have to do this, okay?”

Tae Joon recalled his drone and stood up to face Narita. The simulacrum might not have had a face for him to read, but his body language was tense, anxious. “What are they to you?” Tae Joon asked, point-blank.

“…don’t tell Witt I told you, but I know a family member of. That relative…he’s good people. And Witt seems like a good kid. I don’t know the other two, but they don’t deserve to go down like that. No one does.”

Tae Joon was starting to see why the word about Narita was that he was a bleeding heart. It was probably going to get him killed one day. Maybe today _would_ be that day. The only question was if Tae Joon wanted to go down with him. Any other day, he would’ve said no, not his problem, but…

A memory of Wraith’s quiet desperation in that office surfaced in his mind. He grimaced at the thought. It was irritating to think, but he actually sympathized with that desperation. He didn’t hate their meal time conversations, either. In another time and place, maybe they _could’ve_ been friends. He couldn’t let that possibility make him stupid. But…

_Damn it._

“I’ll go,” Tae Joon said. He felt a hint of dread as he said it, irritation at his own stupidity. But he knew he’d be angry at himself if he didn’t go. _At least when my conscience will be clean when they regenerate me._ “What about you?”

Lifeline considered it, then nodded. “We’re lucky we’re inside the ring. Where do you want to start?”

“The one who landed behind us is closer. We’ll start there, then find the others.” Narita went to open another supply bin, but hesitated. “Thanks, guys.”

He sounded genuinely grateful. Tae Joon briefly wondered what a man like that was doing in a place like this, but there was no time to dwell on that. Right now, he had to focus on making sure Wraith and the others were okay.

He just hoped they got to them before McCormick did.

* * *

In the seconds that followed, all Elliott could think about was Chris.

The exact circumstances of his brother’s death were kept on the wraps—something about how his last assignment with the Militia was classified. Elliott didn’t know. It had left his mind to speculate about what his brother’s last moments were like.

Now, as he cartwheeled through the sky, he wondered if they were something like this.

Elliott thought he could hear someone screaming into his earpiece, but he couldn’t tell who. He was too busy trying to orient himself. It felt like one of his jetpacks was gone, leaving him spiraling. Wasn’t there supposed to be a backup? How had it malfunctioned? What was going _on?!_

As he thought that, the backup finally kicked in. Unfortunately, by the time it did and he managed to get himself rightside-up…

_Oh, no, that’s the ground, there’s the ground…_

Elliott hit the ground hard—not as hard as he would’ve if the backup hadn’t kicked in, but hard enough to make him fall, driving the air out of his lungs. Elliott lay there, wheezing, shaking.

_Oh, shit. I’m alive. Okay. Okay._

His breath came back to him. Elliott got up. The first thing he did was strip off his jump kit and toss it aside. It was still smoldering, and when he reached around he could feel where it had started eating away at his suit. But the thickness of his outfit had protected his skin, and the kit’s fail-safes must’ve kept things from getting to bad. That was the one piece of good news. Everything else hurt already, but his right ankle was especially bad. Damn it, he must’ve rolled it. Elliott took a few hesitant steps forward. “Ah, damn it.” Where was he? There was lava nearby, but that didn’t narrow it down. He could’ve been anywhere on the southern end of the map. “Path? Wraith?”

“Friend, are you okay?!” Pathfinder asked.

“Yeah, I’m good…where are you?”

“I’m near the Sorting Factory. I’m leading towards Lava City. I think Wraith went that way.”

“Have you heard from her?”

“No, not yet.”

“ _Damn it_.” Elliott checked his map, oriented himself, and started speed-hobbling in that direction. He was at the Dome, so good news, they weren’t _too_ far apart. Maybe she was okay. Maybe her coms had fallen off in the drop, maybe… _hopefully…_ “I’ll meet you there-“

A bullet whistled dangerously close to his head. Elliott dropped immediately, his heart suddenly in his throat. “ _Witt!_ ” snarled a voice somewhere behind him.

Oh. Oh, shit, Meathead. As if this match couldn’t _possibly_ get any worse.

“Gotta go.” Elliott sent out a decoy and ran for it. His ankle screamed in pain with every step, but he forced himself to run. Staying still would be suicide. Especially when that maniac was on his tail.

_Keep running, Elliott, don’t stop, don’t stop…_

It was just a game. That was what he always told himself whenever he got too freaked out. It was just a game, he could be regenerated, he could make it through without long-term consequences. Sometimes bad choices were bad, but you lived and you learned.

In that moment, as he ran with all the strength his body could give him, unarmed and unshielded but too afraid to stop for loot, it didn’t _feel_ like a game. It felt like he was running for his life.

His, and maybe Wraith’s.

**_Run,_ ** _Elliott!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wizaad, know that I was writing this chapter as I replied to your comment about Ashwin and was doing the "dramatic irony" laugh to myself the entire time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, fair warning: the violence in this chapter is worse and, mild spoilers, does include asphyxiation and its aftermath as a plot point. If that's a trigger for you, I've marked off the part of the fic where it's most explicit with a ******* and an extra paragraph break. The rest of the fic provides enough context that you won't have missed anything. Also, this chapter doesn't spoil the new teaser but the author's end notes do, so there's that. Also, I'm very sorry. Final also, all descriptions of Lava City are based off my hazy memory of the layout so if there's any discrepancies we'll blame that on the alternate timeline.

Pathfinder only stopped long enough to grab a weapon before starting for Lava City. He didn’t have time to look for more loot. His friends were in trouble. He had to help them.

He made it out of Sorting Factory and over the fence. As he jumped down from the cliff and to the ground below, he heard shouting. “Hey! Hey, Pathfinder!”

Pathfinder turned and aimed. The person shouting at him stopped and held up their hands as two other people ducked behind cover. “Hey, hey, hey, easy! Truce!”

It was Ashwin Narita. Ashwin was a robot, like him, but a simulacrum, which made him different. He was nice, and Pathfinder thought he could be a friend. But right now, he didn’t have time for friends like Ashwin. He had to find his real friends.

But Ashwin was saying _truce_ , which was another way of saying he didn’t want to fight. Maybe…

“We saw what happened to your buddies. We want to help.”

It could have been a trick. Pathfinder had been told he was too trusting (mostly by Mirage, who was only wrong sometimes), so he didn’t want to believe Ashwin right away. But they had talked several times, and Ashwin hadn’t lied to him any of those times. He seemed very nice.

Lifeline was with him. Lifeline was definitely nice. And Pathfinder did need help. He ran the calculations and lowered his weapon. “I’m meeting them at Lava City,” he said. “Do you promise not to shoot us?”

“I promise. I promise on my boss’s bar. Okay?”

That bar was significant to Ashwin. He talked about it a lot. If he was promising on something of significance, there was a high chance he was telling the truth.

“Okay.” Pathfinder nodded once, his chest panel changing from an angry face to a concerned one. “We have to go. They could be in trouble.”

“They probably are. We saw McCormick’s squad going after them. You good for ammo?”

“I am good.” Pathfinder turned towards Lava City and started jogging. “Let’s go get them.”

He heard the others following him. They weren’t shooting, which meant they were actually helping.

That was good. If James McCormick was there, he would need all the help he could get.

“We are coming, friend,” Pathfinder said into the communicator. “We’re coming.”

Mirage didn’t reply.

Pathfinder didn’t feel fear the same way that humans did. But the version of it that he felt was very, very strong in that moment.

* * *

The first thing she heard was a whisper.

_stay limp. play dead._

Her other senses came back to her after that. She smelled fire and ash; she could feel concrete under her cheek. Her wrists were restrained to something. She could hear muttering voices nearby.

“…should’ve been here by now.”

“He’s probably all messed up from the landing.” Jordan and Wilson. Psycho and Shrimpy. Mongoose and Bolt. Whatever you wanted to call them. They weren’t too far away. “Chill out. You’re making me nervous.”

“Everything makes you nervous.” Footsteps approached her. Wraith stayed limp, kept her eyes closed. “I thought she was supposed to be good,” Jordan said.

“She’s good 1v1. That’s why we had to get the jump on her.”

Jordan grunted. She felt his foot nudge her. “She doesn’t seem so tough.”

“Untie her and see what she does then. _Dumbass_ …” She heard Wilson walk away. “ _Don’t_ actually do that. McCormick will be pissed if you do.”

“ _Hrmph._ ” Jordan finally walked away. Wraith risked opening one eye, just enough to see. They were standing a few feet away. It looked like they were on top of a train station. She could see the ruins of her jump pack lying nearby, along with any communication equipment. Jordan, the bastard, was fiddling with her kunai. She wanted to jump up and snatch it from her hands, but she shut her eye again and lay still.

_What do I do?_

The voices didn’t reply. Maybe they didn’t know, either. She usually only saw possible futures when she was asleep. She could really use that edge right now.

_C’mon, Wraith. Think._

“Hey, I think I saw something.”

_Oh, no._

Wilson and Jordan got quiet. She opened one eye again. She could see them peering over the railing, watching something. After conferring quietly, Wilson started to turn. She shut her eyes just in time. “ _Wake up_ ,” snapped Wilson as he harshly shook her shoulder.

She kept her eyes closed, just to spite him.

Then he slapped her.

“ _Up_!” This time, Wraith did open her eyes. “C’mon… _Jordan_ , help me with her!”

Jordan came over and pointed a gun at her. “Don’t try anything.”

She would’ve tried something any other day. But her head was still swimming and everything hurt. In fact, a shot of pain tore through her as Wilson untied her and dragged her to her feet. It felt like she’d cracked a rib, maybe broken it.

Wilson dragged her to the edge of the railing, gun to her head. “ _Hey, Witt!_ ” called Jordan. “We know you’re out there!”

_Oh, no._

She just caught sight of Elliott as he peered around a corner, then ducked back behind the building. Her heart damn near stopped. “Throw out your gun and step out!” Jordan yelled. “Unless you want your girlfriend to get one in the skull!”

“ _Elliott, don’t - !”_

The shout tore out of her before she could stop it. It earned her the gun being shoved into her face. “ _Shut up!_ ” snarled Wilson.

“What’s it going to be, Witt?!” Jordan continued. “Throw out the gun, _now!_ ”

She could’ve sworn she felt time slow. She kept repeating her plea mentally: _Please, just run, don’t do this, Elliott, don’t do this, I can’t…_

“Count of three! One…” The gun in her face clicked.

_Please, Elliott…_

“ _Two!_ ”

_Please._

Wraith closed her eyes. She waited for the trigger to be pulled.

She begged him to run, because she couldn’t watch him get hurt.

* * *

Elliott managed to ditch Meathead on his way to Lava City thanks to some good luck and a few well-placed decoys. That left him with enough breathing room to grab a weapon. He found a Mozambique with no shotgun bolts, a wingman and one backup clip of heavy ammo, and some light ammo. It wasn’t the best, but it was better than nothing.

It was also the last bit of good luck he had.

“ _Hey, Witt!_ ” someone yelled. “We know you’re out there!”

_Shit._

Elliott ducked back behind cover. It sounded like the voice was coming from the ruined train station. He risked another peek. The first thing he saw was Wraith, being held at gunpoint by Shrimpy. The third one—he was pretty sure the guy’s stage name was Mongoose—was standing nearby, also armed. “Throw out your gun and step out!” Mongoose yelled. “Unless you want your girlfriend to get one in the skull!”

“ _Elliott, don’t - !”_

Hearing Wraith scream that was one of the worst things he’d ever heard. A tidal wave of dread and sheer rage swept over him, _nearly_ driving him to do something stupid. Only the pain in his ankle and the background knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to maneuver the way he usually could kept him in check.

_Think, **think,** Elliott, don’t freeze up now, you have to do something._

“What’s it going to be, Witt?! Throw out the gun _now!_ ”

His mind was racing. There were a few ways he could try to flank them, but they’d definitely see him coming…

“Count of three!”

But maybe he could use that to his advantage?

“One…”

What was the last thing they’d see coming?

“ _Two!_ ”

“Okay, okay!” He pulled out the Mozambique and tossed it into their line of sight. “There!”

_Buy the bluff, buy the bluff, buy it, please…_

“ _Both_ guns!”

“That’s all I have! I couldn’t find anything else!” The panic in his voice wasn’t acting. The thought that they might not buy it and that he might have to watch Wraith get shot in the head set his heart racing and made him reconsider the whole plan, but he stayed the course. “I’m not lying to you about this, man, _please!_ ”

There was a pause. When he peered out around the corner again, he could see them talking furiously between them. Elliott took that as his opportunity. He sent a decoy out in the direction he _would’ve_ tried to flank.

“ _Hey - !_ ”

And then ran directly forward into their line of sight.

It was a risky gambit. He’d only made it work once, and never tried again. But today he was desperate and dealing with newbies, so maybe…

_Take the bait, take the bait…_

The first shot missed, hitting the ground near him but not him. Elliott forced himself to keep running forward at an even gait a bit further before stopping. He pretended to go through his pockets—the exact movements he’d programmed into his decoys. Externally he stayed calm as a cucumber, despite the fact that his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it.

Jordan cursed and ran in the direction of the decoy.

_Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you…_

Elliott waited until Jordan was out of sight. He waited another second before pulling out his wingman and pretending to check the clip, same way he’d programmed the decoys, half-watching Shrimpy to make sure he wasn’t going to start shooting again.

Then Elliott aimed and pulled the trigger, as quickly as he could, desperately hoping and praying he wouldn’t miss.

He didn’t. Kinda. He didn’t _kill_ the guy, but from the look of it, he shot his ear off. Wraith took advantage of that to break free, slamming her elbow into his face. Elliott knew he wouldn’t be able to help her when she was in melee, and he didn’t see any way up the sides, so he ran into the building, ready to run up to the top and meet her up there.

_Please, please be okay, please…_

He made it into the building and up the stairs to what had once been the waiting area. He was most of the way up the stairs when Wraith emerged from roof, looking roughed up but alive.

He’d never been more relieved in his life.

And then she looked at him and smiled that beautiful smile of hers, and for _half a second_ he really thought things were going to be okay.

Then he saw the smile fall off her face.

“ _Look out - !_ ”

Too late.

* * *

If Elliott didn’t die in the next few seconds, she was going to kill him herself.

That was Wraith’s first thought when she realized what he was doing. She second-guessed herself, though, when Jordan shot at the figure running towards them and it didn’t even flinch.

_Maybe he is trying to flank? Maybe…_

But as she stared at the figure, watching it go through its pockets and fiddle with its gun as if nothing were wrong, a voice whispered in her mind. _it’s him. get ready._

He really was an idiot.

But his plan was working, so she braced herself and waited.

His aim was good; he didn’t _kill_ Wilson, but if the spray of blood that hit her face was any indication, he’d hit _something_. Wraith too that opportunity to strike back, slamming her elbow into his face as she broke free of his grip. He was reeling from the blow to the nose and what looked like a shot off ear, so getting the gun off of him was easy. She dropped him and turned to run. Jordan was still out there, and she had to get to cover.

She had to make sure Elliott was okay.

She ran down the stairs and into the former waiting area. She saw Elliott on the stairs, intact and alive, saw the relief in his eyes when he spotted her. She felt that relief herself, swelling up from her heart and making her feel _safe_ for the first time since all of this started.

Then she saw the door open, and the figure aiming a gun.

“ _Look out - !_ ”

Elliott turned around. The _crack_ of gunfire punctuated him dropping suddenly, spraying blood from his leg. Wraith started to run, but—

_behind you!_

Turned around in time to see Jordan charging her with her kunai.

She barely managed to avoid his initial attack, but the act of dodging sent another burst of pain through him. He was _relentless_ , and clearly had some knife training. Dodging his blows was almost as bad as being hit would’ve been.

She had to deal with this. She had to push through the pain and she had to stop this because Meathead was down there and he was going after Elliott and she had to stop him…

That thought sent a surge of energy through her. She threw herself at Jordan, phasing at the last second and appearing behind him. Unfortunately, he reacted quickly, spinning along and slashing the knife towards her face. She barely blocked it with her arms, though she could feel the knife slashing into her skin.

She phased again. She’d get in trouble for it, but she was past caring at this point. Damn the match rules, damn the game masters, damn the _games._ Her mind was in fight or flight, and as far as she was concerned, this was a fight for her life.

She hadn’t lived through months of torture and years on the run just to have _this_ happen to her.

This time, he was facing the wrong direction when she re-appeared. Wraith took the opportunity to shoot him point-blank, in the chest, then through the jaw. He dropped immediately. Her chest hurt and she was struggling to breathe, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. The gun she’d taken off of Wilson was empty, but she didn’t have time to look for ammo. She grabbed her kunai, turned, and sprinted for the steps.

Wraith wasn’t going to let Elliott die.

She _couldn’t_ let him die.

* * *

Elliott wasn’t a medical expert, but he knew a thing or two about the places where you absolutely, positively did not want to be shot. At least one was on your legs, and from the amount of blood that was squirting from the wound, he’d been shot in exactly that spot.

But he didn’t have time to worry about that, because Meathead was walking over.

“ _Where’s my drink, huh?_ ” Meathead growled.

_Yep, that was the dumbest thing I could’ve said._

Elliott aimed the wingman and fired off the last bullets. Meathead somehow had a purple shield _again_ , and each bullet only dispersed across the shield. He heard it crack, but by then it was a moot point. All he had to attack with was his fists.

The way that Meathead picked him up and tossed him like a rag doll said his fists wouldn’t be much help.

Elliott felt his head hit the ground hard upon impact. He was pretty sure he blacked out for a second, because when his memory kicked back in, Meathead was much closer.

“Stupid _bitch_ …”

Elliott kicked him in the shins. Meathead barely reacted.

_Shit –_

******* And then his hands were around Elliott’s throat.

Elliott fought back—he _tried_. He struggled, he kicked, he even tried to claw at the guy’s eyes. But it felt like he was a moth throwing itself against the window until he died. Every blow only seemed to increase the pressure around his throat.

Meathead didn’t say anything. There was no gloating, no more taunts. Just an animalistic urge to kill.

_Please, please, not like this, not like this, please…_

He forgot that this was a game. He forgot that he could come back. He forgot everything but crushing weight on his throat and the way his body wasn’t responding.

_Please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t…_ *******

Suddenly, the weight was lifted from his throat. Elliott still struggled to breathe. His throat felt like a crumpled up toilet paper tube. He took in deep, wheezing breaths, struggling against the pain and the burning…

A hand was on his face. He tried to get away away until he realized it was…

Wraith. Wraith was there. Wraith was alive. She looked paler than usual, making the bruising on her face stand out, but she was alive. She was alive.

Wraith was okay. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

Sometimes, Wraith didn’t think about what she was doing.

In those moments, she felt as if something were guiding her towards her goal—another her from another time, perhaps, or maybe whatever forces kept this timeline together. It hadn’t failed her yet, so she didn’t question it.

That hand was guiding her as she ran down the steps, towards the shape of McCormick hunched over Elliott, both hands around his throat.

That hand showed her just the right place to stab. Once in the back. Once in the throat.

Meathead toppled over, suddenly limp as a rag doll and bleeding profusely from the hole in his neck. His eyes were wide, his mouth gaping like a fish, as if he couldn’t figure out how she beat him.

_Bastard,_ she thought, before her thoughts were consumed by worry.

“Elliott… _Elliott…_ ” She crawled to his side and rested a hand on his cheek. “Hey, hey, I’m here…”

He tried to squirm away at first, but calmed when he realized it was her. Not just calmed—he _smiled_. He smiled up at her with that stupid big smile of his as if his throat wasn’t turning dark purple from the bruising and his face weren’t going pale from blood loss. As if the sight of her meant everything was okay, when it very much wasn’t.

She needed to find a syringe, something to stop the bleeding… “I’m going to get help.” She pulled off her scarf and shakily tied it around his leg, trying to at least _slow_ the bleeding. “I’m…”

Every breath took effort. Why was it so hard to breathe? It wasn’t panic, not anymore. How badly had she busted her ribs?

“I’m going to get…”

She had to stop. She focused on breathing. It was hard—too hard. Her lungs were only expanding so much, no matter how hard she tried…

_get up. get up, go to the door._

She wasn’t sure she could. But Wraith knew she _had_ to. She only stopped long enough to touch Elliott’s face again, trying to wipe the increasing concern off his face as it sank in that she wasn’t okay. _I’ll be back_ , she wanted to say, but it was taking everything she had just to _breathe_ normally, so talking was out of the question. She forced herself to her feet. She walked to the door and pushed it open.

“Wraith!” called Pathfinder from somewhere outside.

Relief shot through her.

Pain and panic quickly followed as she collapsed to the ground.

She heard voices, more of them than just Pathfinder’s. The face that appeared in her field of vision wasn’t his, but…Crypto’s? What was he doing here? Then Lifeline after that. The voices around her turned into a mush of nonsense; the only thing she could hear quickly was the other Wraith telling her to lie still, not to panic.

_I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t…_

Then, suddenly, she could.

Wraith took a deep, gasping breath. “…there, just breathe slowly…” Lifeline looked up in the direction where Elliott was lying. “Don’t move. I don’t know how many of your ribs are broken.”

“Help him… _help him_ …” He was worse than she was. She could breathe again, she was fine, they needed to help Elliott. “Please…”

“I’m going…watch her, don’t let her get up.” Lifeline got up and ran to Elliott’s side. Wraith nearly got up, but Crypto’s hand on her shoulder pushed her back down.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “He’ll be all right. They’re looking after him.” He looked worried, actually _worried_. “What happened?”

“…McCormick…the others, got the jump on me…ambushed Elliott...” It smelled like blood in the room. She didn’t know who it belonged to. “Is he…?”

“They were all eliminated by the time we came in here. You’re safe.” Crypto kept one hand on her shoulder and used the other hand to steer his drone. She could hear it whirring around outside, coming to a stop somewhere over the street. “And we’re still inside the ring, so you have plenty of time.”

Wraith wanted to believe him, but her mind was still in survival mode, desperate to get moving. She scanned her surroundings as best she could. Lifeline and Ashwin Narita were blocking her view of Elliott. Pathfinder kept pacing between the two of them. “Path…” she said, hoping he knew more than she did.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t until he faced her completely that she realized the face on his chest was sad, the blue frowny face shedding tears. She could count the number of times she’d seen that face on one hand, and never for longer than a few seconds. “I lost you. I wasn’t here fast enough.”

“ _Hey…_ it’s not your fault…not…” She stopped to catch her breath. “Not your fault. You did what you could.” She held out a hand to him; he knelt down and took it. It was in moments like this that she realized how human he could really be. “Is he okay…?”

“Lifeline is performing a field tracheostomy or cricothyrotomy. I couldn’t see clearly.”

Not good. It meant he wasn’t breathing well on his own. She nearly sat up again, only to be pushed back down by Crypto. “You have a valve in your side for a pneumothorax,” he scolded. “You’re not going to be any use to him if you pass out again.”

_I have a what?_ Wraith looked down. Sure enough, her outfit had been opened up and there was something sticking out of her side. That explains why she hadn’t been able to breathe. “I have to…”

“They know what they’re doing. He’ll be fine.”

She wanted to believe that. But not being able to see him was eating away at her. She turned her head to watch as best she could. What she could see of Elliott wasn’t moving. Eventually, Lifeline straightened up and started talking to Narita. The conversation went back and forth, becoming more audible as Narita grew increasingly agitated.

“…has a whole-ass _tube in his throat_ , he can’t fight like this!”

“That’s how the system works. You fight until you’re unconscious and eliminated. I can’t fix that, unless you want me to end him right now…”

“That’s not funny.”

“Not being funny. I’m being honest.”

She wasn’t wrong. It had happened before—people were hurt too badly to keep fighting but too stable to count as an elimination. There was a reason people didn’t usually give emergency medical care in the games—better to just let the person bleed out and get their regen than risk leaving them in that state. Wraith was glad Lifeline had helped, because the thought of letting Elliott suffocate—of suffocating herself—terrified her. But it left them with only one option.

“…I have to tap out,” she said. “I can’t…I can’t fight, either.”

Tapping out was rare; everyone knew that the financial penalty was bad, and the scrutiny from the press and the other competitors worse. Any other day, she would’ve rather kept her pride and just let gravity and blood loss do the job. But today…no, not today. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t face that.

“Path, I’m sorry.”

“I will tap out, too,” Pathfinder said. He kept on holding her hand, his gaze still moving from her to Elliott and back, as if afraid they’d vanish if he let them out of his sight. “I don’t want to fight without you.”

Maybe it was the low oxygen talking, but the comment nearly made her cry. Something about it felt…deeper than just his usual friendliness. He called everyone he even remotely liked his friend, but that gesture made her realize he _truly_ considered her one. “Okay.” This time, her chest wound had nothing to do with her stopping to compose herself. “Is…is Elliott…?”

“He’s awake, but out of it,” Narita said. “Oh…hey, hey, no, don’t try to talk…your throat is all kinds of messed up right now, bud.”

Lifeline had sat back by this point, giving Wrath a better view of where Elliott was lying. She could just make out the bandages and tubing on his throat. The sight made her nauseous. His lips were moving, even as Narita shushed him. “Your team’s right over there, they’re both fine. We’re just trying to figure out what to do with you guys, okay? They were, uhm…they were talking about tapping out…” Narita kept one hand on Elliott’s shoulder. “She’s not in any state to fight and neither are you.”

Silence followed. It was eventually broken by a quiet snuffling sound. Was Elliott crying? “I know, I know, it’s tough, but you did your best, okay? No shame in bowing out. And if anyone gives you grief, I’ll steal their kneecaps, okay?” Narita leaned a bit closer. “Are you okay with this? Blink once for yes, twice for no?”

Wraith couldn’t see Elliott’s response, but from the way Narita’s shoulders slumped in relief, Elliott had agreed to it. “Okay. Uhm…”He looked up at Lifeline. “What do we do? Should we wait with them?”

“They’ll send someone out to get them.” Lifeline finally stood up, stripping off her gloves as she did. “No one will bother them until they get here. We can stay nearby, but we should move. It’s still open season on us.”

Narita muttered something in what sounded like Japanese, and probably wasn’t very polite. “ _Right._ No honor among thieves. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Lifeline looked at Wraith, clearly apologetic. “Sorry…”

“No hard feelings,” Wraith said, and meant it. Lifeline had stuck her neck out for them in a big way. She couldn’t resent them looking after themselves now that the danger had passed. “Can I…can I move…?”

Elliott was too far away. She had to be near them. Hiding her feelings be damned, she had to see him.

She couldn’t move on her own, but the others helped her nearby. Wraith was able to tap out on her own; Pathfinder had to do it for Elliott. Lifeline made one last check to make sure they were stable while Narita and Crypto kept watch. They didn’t say anything as they left, but Crypto met her eyes and nodded. A quiet apology, perhaps.

Then they were alone, Wraith lying beside Elliott, Pathfinder keeping watch.

Wraith felt a hand brush against hers. When she finally looked Elliott’s way, he was staring at her as best he could with the work done to his throat. The hand was his. She took it without hesitation.

There were tears in his eyes as he squeezed it as tightly as he could. She squeezed back.

She wondered if he would remember this.

She wondered what he would think of her if he did.

They waited in silence until game officials came for them, barely afloat in the sea of what had happened to them, and the weight of things still unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record I am not a doctor so I probably got some of the injury and medical treatment stuff wrong...apologies to any doctors reading this.
> 
> Also, canon spoiler reaction time: RIP Skulltown, you won't be missed at all. Also, already planning on how to integrate all of this into my fanfic timeline, Loba included (with a different outfit though). Also also, [update about Ashwin in light of the new Revenant information (body horror cw?).](https://screechthemighty.tumblr.com/post/617305593796018176/im-still-trying-to-decide-how-to-align-the-recent)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, turns out, I can only get one productive week before Quarantine Brain kicks in and I have to go on hiatus for like...two and a half weeks? Sorry about that. I'm dragging myself back to normal levels of routine and writing and All That Jazz and so hopefully more writing will happen. (I should...probably also work on my poor abandoned Titanfall fic, though...whoops).

Pathfinder was there when she woke up.

“...Elliott…” Wraith almost tried to sit up, but a deep, horrifically numb feeling kept her from doing much. It felt like she was submerged in quicksand. What had they given her? “Where’s…?”

“He’s in the next room. Ashwin Narita is with him.” Pathfinder’s voice sounded cheerful as ever, but quieter. His face screen was on a smiley face, but switched back to sad as he examined her. “Are you in serious pain? Do I need to get a doctor?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” Which was part of the problem; she’d almost prefer it if she _were_ in pain. As it was, the numb feeling that covered her whole body reminded her too much of her time in that hospital. “Is he awake?”

“Not yet. It’s only been a few hours.”

“Really? What time is it?”

“6:30 p.m. local time.” Matches were usually at noon and they hadn’t been in the arena very long...she couldn’t remember seeing any time pieces on her way to the medical bay. Her sluggish mind wasn’t as bothered by the blank spaces in her memory as it should’ve been. “He just got out of surgery two hours ago.”

Surgery. His throat. The memories sent a burst of energy through her, giving her enough strength to push herself mostly upright. Pathfinder didn’t try to stop her, and she was grateful. It hurt, but she needed to feel in control of her own body right now. “Can you go make sure he’s okay?” she asked.

Pathfinder’s head tilted slightly. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be alone.”

“I’m okay, he’s...he’s the one who had his throat cut open.” Being alone would be terrible, but… “I just...I want someone I know with him. I know Ashwin’s an okay guy, but I’d feel better if I were there and since I can’t…I trust you more than him.”

Pathfinder perked up slightly, the happy face briefly flashing up before being replaced by the sad one again. “I will watch him if you promise not to leave the bed,” he said, “and have someone get me if you get scared. Mirage wouldn’t want you to be scared.”

“Okay, I promise.” She was only half lying to him; she would stay in bed, but she had no intention of asking him to come back, no matter how scared she was. That _half_ was enough to make her feel guilty, but she wanted Elliott safe more than she wanted to feel like a good person. “Thanks, Path.”

“You’re welcome, friend!”

She regretted the request slightly after Pathfinder left, but swallowed past her nerves and closed her eyes. _Breathe. Focus. You’re okay. You’re safe. Just…_ Wraith clenched her hand and unclenched it slowly. _Breathe._

When the door opened not long after, her first thought was that it was a nurse--that someone had noticed her heart rate spiking and had come to sedate her. But the person carefully pushing their way into the room, carrying both a messenger bag and a backpack, not clad in his usual coat and looking much smaller for it…

“What are you doing here?” Wraith asked.

Crypto shrugged. “Pathfinder said you don’t like hospitals.” He gave the room a careful once-over before moving the chair Pathfinder had been using to a new spot. “He didn’t want you to be alone.”

Wraith wasn’t sure if she was grateful that Pathfinder was thinking of her or frustrated that he’d gotten Crypto involved. “What’s with all the bags?” she asked.

“This one’s work. This one…” He opened it and deposited Hanna onto her lap. “...is for you.” Hanna blinked in the stark hospital lighting before deciding that this was acceptable and moving to a more comfortable place on Wraith’s lap. “Don’t ask if cats are allowed in here. I didn’t ask and I don’t care,” Crypto added as he sat down and pulled a tablet out of the other bag. “There are studies that show they facilitate healing. I’ll tell the doctor that if they give me grief.”

Wraith laughed, despite the pain in her chest, despite the hint of near-tears that sounded through it, despite how it wasn’t even that funny. “Thanks.”

It was silent again after that, aside from Hanna starting to purr once she found a comfortable spot. Wraith focused on petting the cat and not panicking. For a while, Crypto seemed caught up in whatever it was he was doing. Eventually, his typing slowed and his focus started splitting between the tablet and her. “Do I look that bad?” Wraith asked after one of the glances.

“You look like what you went through.”

“So…like shit.”

“More or less. We won, by the way.”

“Congrats.” She was genuinely surprised; after the absolute shitshow they’d put themselves in trying to help her and Elliott, they must’ve been at a hell of a disadvantage. “I bet the people loved it.”

Crypto scoffed quietly. “Oh, they did. We looked _noble._ They couldn’t have scripted it better.” After a pause, he added, “Narita’s been barred from press conferences, though.”

“Why, what’d he do?”

He tapped at the tablet screen before holding it out to her. “See for yourself.”

Wraith took the tablet carefully and pressed _play_ on the video he’d brought up. It was news footage, your standard post-match press walk. Crypto had a bloody nose, one of Lifeline’s buns had come undone, and Narita had some visible bullet scouring on his chest, but they seemed fine otherwise. “...what was your motivation for helping the enemy team?” asked one reporter as he shoved a microphone towards Ashwin’s face.

Ashwin stared. With the camera being so zoomed in on his single-eyeball face, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. She didn’t have to wait long to find out, though. “My _motivation?_ My _motivation_ for helping people in trouble? Their _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ jet packs failed. That’s not a part of the game, of _course_ I helped.”

“I was just...since there was a chance they might…”

“What, turn on me? Oh, no, I’m supposed to turn my back on people because it might be a little _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ inconvenient for me? They could’ve gotten _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ killed out there, killed for _real_ , because some _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ for brains didn’t check their _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ packs…”

“Mr. Narita, I didn’t mean to offend…”

“...what was my _motivation for [CENSOR BLEEP] helping people?!_ You know what, you know what, hey…” He grabbed the microphone, pulling it closer to himself and looking directly into the camera. “... _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ these stupid _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ ing games and _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ whoever did that to them because I _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ ng know that packs don’t just fail like that! Hey, don’t…” He had to struggle to keep the mic in his hands. “...I’m not done, _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ you, Blisk, yeah, you think I didn’t know?! You think I didn’t recognize your branding you…”

The censor bleep went on for a good amount of time. If Ashwin was really ex-military, and if his insults were anything close to the things Wraith had heard coming out of Bangalore’s mouth, it must’ve been something to behold. And even then, just when it seemed like he’d let up…

“... _go crawling back to whatever shithole planet you came from!_ ” Ashwin finally shoved the microphone back and pushed past the reporters. “F _[CENSOR BLEEP]_ me sideways! _[CENSOR BLEEP]_!”

That left Crypto and Lifeline staring after them, Lifeline looking taken aback and Crypto looking impassive as ever. “...I think I burst a capillary,” Crypto said finally. “I need to go to medical.” He pushed past the reporters as well. Lifeline followed, only stopping to glare at one reporter who nearly asked her a question. The video ended there.

“...Did you really burst something?” Wraith asked.

“No,” Crypto admitted. “I thought not. I just didn’t want to talk to them.”

“That’s fair.” Wraith passed him back the tablet. “I didn’t know Narita felt so strongly about it.”

“Me either. I don’t know what he’s doing here if he does.”

“He said he needed money...he must need it pretty badly.”

Crypto hummed in agreement.

It was silent again after that; there wasn’t much else to say, and if there was, Wraith didn’t think she had the energy to say it. Everything still ached, and the sedatives were doing their job. Though not well enough to stop her worry about Elliott from gnawing away at her.

_I need to check on him. No, I can’t get out of bed, and anyway I promised Pathfinder. I have to be sure. I…_

One of the voices chimed in. _don’t. wait._

It was difficult to listen. But she tried.

Crypto had to leave, eventually, but he at least waited until she went through her next round of injections. She was even more grateful that he double-checked the shot she was given and whispered its exact contents to her before leaving. _Nothing out of the ordinary_ , he promised.

Wraith wasn’t sure when she started trusting Crypto so much, but it was one of the only things keeping her sane, so she didn’t question it too much.

The next day came and went in much the same way. Pathfinder came back, long enough to let her know that Elliott was awake—still groggy, but awake, and probably able to talk by the next day. She sent him back to Elliott as soon as possible. Lifeline stopped by briefly to make sure she was okay; Crypto came back not long after. “You didn’t hear this from me,” he said, “but they’re sending McCormick back to the Hyperfighting Federation. Same with Jordan, if they want him back. Wilson’s been banned entirely.”

“…did they have something to do with…?”

“Wilson, for sure. That’s why he’s been banned. I’m surprised they’re still going through with his regeneration…then again, he’ll owe them a lot of money.”

Wraith leaned back against her pillows, trying to process what he was telling her. As she recalled the incident, it hit her how much of an ambush it had been—and not an opportunistic one. They had thought to restrain her and use her as bait to get Elliott. Elliott, _specifically._

Elliott, someone whom Meathead had on-the-record beef with.

“There’s no way Wilson would’ve thought to do that on his own,” Wraith said. “Or done it without the go-ahead from…”

Crypto shrugged. “I agree. But it’s about what they can prove. They have Wilson on camera, so he’s out. Unless he rats out McCormick…”

Wraith sighed heavily. There was no way that would happen. “Right. Of course.”

The slowly growing sense of rage she felt at the situation was, at least, a nice distraction from the low-level pain and her concern about Elliott. It was, in fact, her driving force behind getting up later that night when she was left alone and leaving her room.

It wasn’t _just_ the anger; she needed to walk around, needed to prove to herself that she was a patient and not a prisoner. She definitely wasn’t a prisoner; technically, she could leave at any time. The only thing keeping her there was the knowledge that she’d need at least one more day to recover before she could be trusted on her own. Still, every step she took of her own accord felt like taking her life back.

That feeling had sharpened her anger into a fine knife by the time she reached Meathead’s room.

The room wasn’t locked. She slipped inside, so quietly that he didn’t wake up. The bed was designed to keep him immobile, probably to help his spine heal. Good. That meant he couldn’t try to go anywhere.

He woke up pretty quickly when she pushed against the bandages on his neck, just hard enough to hurt. She covered his mouth before he could scream. “Remember me, asshole?” she growled.

Meathead froze. She could see the fire in his eyes, the urge to fight back, but the bed was doing a good job keeping him still. “Let’s get something straight right now,” she said quietly. “You might think it was slick, asking Wilson to do your dirty work, but I _know._ Eventually, they’re going to let you out of this bed and they’re going to send you back to whatever second-rate fighting group you crawled out of. I know you’re going to think you can make your way back here, but I promise you…if I _ever_ see your face around here again, you won’t be leaving this arena on your own two feet. I will _personally_ make your life a living hell.” She covered his nose while he was at it, applying just enough pressure to make it hard to breathe, waited until his anger turned to panic. “This is a _promise_. I don’t forget a face and I have a lot more friends than you do. So _stay gone._ ”

Some of the machines were starting to beep. Wraith let go and speed-walked out of the room. She was able to make it back to her room before she lost her breath entirely.

That was probably stupid. It was probably caught on camera, and if it was, she’d definitely get in trouble.

_I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it._

She could’ve gone back to her room. She almost did. But, as she stood there, she realized that the room across the hall from hers was occupied. On a gut feeling, she peered inside the window.

Elliott lay in bed, fast asleep.

Why did the prospect of going in there scare her more than the prospect of threatening Meathead?

Wraith swallowed nervously and slipped inside.

She was surprised to see that no one was there. This place had visiting hours, but she’d figured Pathfinder or Narita would push to stay. Then again, Narita was probably on thin ice after that outburst. Wouldn’t want to risk it. Wraith walked to Elliott’s side. If it weren’t for the bruising and bandaging on his throat, he’d look peaceful.

His hair was a mess. She thought back to that evening he fixed her hair and wished there was something she could do. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I should’ve…”

Been faster. Not gotten caught. Taken out Jordan faster. Not been so far away when they landed. Told him not to jump. Done… _something_.

If he were awake, he’d probably tell her not to be stupid. Probably blame himself. In a way, she was relieved that he wasn’t awake. She couldn’t bear to hear him put himself down like that when he’d taken a major risk to save her.

She tried to comb his hair down. It didn’t look any better by the time she was done. It didn’t help that he started stirring towards the end, and she had to make a hasty retreat to avoid waking him entirely. She thought about going back—thought about staying once he had settled back down and fallen asleep. But she was already risking being forced back to bed by the nurses, and she didn’t know what she’d say to him when he woke up.

_I’m glad you’re okay._

_Thank you for trying._

_It’s not your fault._

But more than that…

_you need to figure that out at some point._

Great. _Now_ they chose to speak up. _Now_ they decided to give some input.

_Thanks. Thanks for that._

But, as she lay back in her own bed, trying and failing to fall back asleep, she knew that the voices were right. There was no way she’d be able to avoid him after this. Wraith didn’t think she ever wanted him out of her sight again after what they’d been through.

And if her avoiding him was the only thing keeping her feelings at bay…how long until they came spilling out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I was re-working some of the outline for the last few chapters and realized that i had misnumbered it so...this thing was originally supposed to be 21 chapters? And I just numbered chapter fifteen twice?? I fixed it, though, and we're back down to twenty now that I streamlined some stuff. Don't worry, I still fit some ~juicy~ content in those chapters. ~~Next chapter, specifically.~~


	15. Chapter 15

Elliott’s first concrete memory was of eating chocolate pudding while Ashwin Narita called his mom.

There were a lot of things he remembered in a weird, academic kind of way—that at some point the day after the match he woke up from surgery, that he’d been out of it for the rest of that day and most of the today day, and that he was only allowed to talk starting that morning. He couldn’t remember if he had talked before then; as far as he knew, the first words to come out of his mouth in three days, as Ashwin passed him the phone, were, “Hey, Mom.”

“ _Are you okay?!_ ”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m…eating pudding, and…” He glanced up at Ashwin. It was only then that he realized Pathfinder was there, too. “Hanging out with the boys.”

“ _You’d better be hanging out with the boys in the hospital._ ”

“Yeah, I’m in the hospital. It’s hospital pudding.” Now that he thought about it, the only time he ate chocolate pudding was when he was in the hospital after a regeneration. “Are you okay? How are you? Still the smartest person on Solace?”

“ _Mijo, don’t ask me how I am. I’m not the one who’s in the hospital. Do you want me to come to…?”_

“Mom, no, I’m good. I’m good, really.” He was actually terrible, and realizing it more and more the longer he was fully lucid. But he’d be a lot worse if his mom saw him like this. “Uhm…I’ll come to you, once I’m clear to travel. Okay? They’ll want me to take some time off…”

“ _I should_ **_hope_ ** _so.”_

“…they will, I’ll ask for some if they don’t spell it out to me, and I’ll come home for a bit, okay? I promise.” That would be an easy promise to keep. He needed a break. He’d nearly been choked to death and then Lifeline shoved a straw into his throat in the middle of an abandoned city.

Oh, shit. He’d nearly been choked to death. And Lifeline had shoved a straw into his throat. And Wraith…

Oh, shit, _Wraith._

“Hey, the, uh, the doctor’s coming soon, so I have to…” His voice cracked. Definitely not a good sign. “Sorry, I should…”

“ _No, no, I’ll call again later, okay? You see what the doctor wants and rest. I love you._ ”

“Love you, Mom.” He was glad he was at least able to get that out before his voice croaked out entirely. “‘Bye.”

He hung up. Ashwin was staring at him when he did. “There’s not a doctor coming,” he pointed out.

“Where…” _That_ was when his voice croaked out. Damn it. The prospect that he could go entirely mute had started to occur to him and needless to say, he was _not_ a fan. In a burst of panic, he reverted back to being thirteen, having strep throat, and being able to communicate with his family one way.

“ _Wraith?_ ” he finger spelled. It didn’t occur to him until halfway through that Ashwin or Pathfinder might not know sign language, but screw it, he’d committed.

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m gonna assume you’re asking about Wraith,” Ashwin guessed. Mirage nodded desperately. “She’s okay. Better than you, actually. She woke up day one. Last I checked, she’s set to be released for R&R soon.”

Elliott let out a deep, relieved sigh. Most of that match was kind of a blur after Meathead let go of his throat, but he thought he remembered Wraith having to be helped over to his side...she must’ve been in worse shape than she looked if they needed to help her... _how bad was it? Had she needed a full regen? Was she going to be okay?_

“I’ll get you a notepad or something...hang on.” Ashwin darted out of the room, leaving Elliott alone with Pathfinder. Wait...why was Pathfinder here? Someone had to be with Wraith. She hated hospitals. She was terrified of them. She couldn’t be alone.

“I asked Crypto to stay with Wraith,” Pathfinder said, as if he could read Elliott’s mind--or, more likely, the panicked way Elliott was staring at him. “She said I should stay with you. She wanted someone she trusted to look after you, since she couldn’t be here.”

...oh. That was...actually kind of sweet.

Elliott pointed to Pathfinder, then made a questioning thumbs up. “I’m okay. I wasn’t hurt,” Pathfinder said. His chest display switched to a sad face and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry you were and that I wasn’t there fast enough.”

Oh, no. Elliott didn’t think he could bear seeing Pathfinder doing the robot equivalent of sad puppy eyes. He shook his head emphatically, almost risked talking but changed his mind pretty quickly. He _really_ didn’t want to lose his voice for good. “ _Do you understand sign_?” he tried, since he still wasn’t clear on that one. He was pretty sure MRVNs understood multiple languages, but he wasn’t clear on sign being one of them.

“I understand enough,” Pathfinder said.

Oh, good, that solved things. “ _Not your fault,”_ he said. “ _Did they say what happened?_ ”

“They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Damn. Maybe they were still investigating. They probably wouldn’t say anything until they knew for sure what happened...and even then they might not say anything too incriminating. Lawyers might have an issue with them blabbing about it. Even if no one was stupid enough to sue the Syndicate, that was a pretty common tactic with bureaucracies.

“ _Did I say anything stupid? I don’t remember much_ ,” Elliott asked.

“No. The doctor said you weren’t allowed to talk and you didn’t. Then when he said you could, you asked Ashwin to call your mother for you. Are you in any pain?”

“ _A little._ ” Standard aches and pains. Neck hurt, but the worst of it still hadn’t sunk in yet. “ _Who won?_ ”

“Ashwin’s team! It was a _nail-biting win_ , apparently. I didn’t watch the match replay. I don’t know if I want to.”

Elliott grimaced. Yeah, he wasn’t sure if he’d want to watch that, either. Okay, so his decoy fakeout had probably looked pretty cool, but the rest of it? Awful. Throw it directly in the trash. And the commentary on it... _ugh_ , this was probably going to be his whole reputation now. _Shit_ , so many people had seen that. How many cameras had seen him crying? _Note to self: stay off social media for a while. And away from reporters. Especially stay away from reporters._

Ashwin walked back in as he was having that thought spiral, pen and paper in hand. “Damn, didn’t think it would be so hard to find basic writing utensils...here you go. You good? Do you need anything?”

Elliott took the supplies. The first thing he wrote was _Thanks_ followed by _I’m good. Can you tell Wraith?_

“I stuck my head in on my way back, actually. Figured she’d want to know. Kim was with her...Crypto, sorry...and a nurse was checking her out. She’ll probably stop by once that’s over and done with.” Ashwin sat back down and sighed. “Shit, kid. I’m sorry.”

 _For what?_ Elliott wrote.

“I smelled the fuel leak...yes, I can still smell, believe it or not. I was trying to figure out whose pack was busted...guess I didn’t figure it out fast enough.” He started bouncing his knee, the joint creaking slightly as he did. “I wish I’d been able to take a look at someone’s pack...I might’ve been able to figure out what happened. If I was smelling fuel, it was probably an issue with one of the lines, but...that could mean anything. They’re pretty durable things, but if you don’t keep up maintenance…”

That was true...but it also made no damn sense. There were a lot of things you could say about the Apex Legends games, but they did a _damn_ good job making sure all the equipment worked the way it should. If something broke during a match, it was probably on you.

But Elliott couldn’t think of any way that this was his fault, and he was usually pretty good at finding all the ways a situation was his fault. _Theories?_ he wrote, though part of him didn’t want to know.

“...you want the generous one or the paranoid one?” Ashwin asked.

Oh, Elliott hated that. _Generous first_ , he replied.

“Generous theory...new environment wasn’t suiting the packs. Especially not one with the kind of temperature variance this place has. Maybe they didn’t weather or temperature proof them right, checks weren’t thorough enough, line gets brittle and cracks, tiny bit of lava causes something to melt and it gets worse later...something like that.”

That made sense. Elliott was pretty sure they would’ve worked out those kinks by now, but you never knew. Especially when they were juggling setting up the new location and whatever the _hell_ had gone on back on Solace. _Paranoid theory?_ he asked.

“Someone did it on purpose,” Ashwin said bluntly. “Now, I have _zero_ evidence of that, but...I guess Barker wore off on me a bit. He ever tell you? Never trust people 100%?”

He had, actually. Elliott very faintly remembered. _95% at best, unless they’ve taken a bullet for you,_ he wrote. _Then it’s 99%._

Ashwin read the pad and laughed quietly. “I forgot...you didn’t know him when he was _properly_ paranoid. He used to say 60% if you were lucky.” He glanced Pathfinder’s way. “That’s my old boss I was telling you about. He didn’t like people too much.”

The door opened before Pathfinder could reply. 

Wraith was there.

Seeing her standing on her own two feet made Elliott feel almost lightheaded with relief. Even the sight of Crypto hovering close behind her couldn’t dampen his sudden good mood. “Hey,” Wraith said quietly.

 _Oh. Shit._ Elliott started scribbling, his handwriting was a bit sloppier than he would’ve liked by the time he was done, but he was worried he might not be able to get the words out before someone spoke for him. 

_Can’t talk, doc’s orders. Sorry you’ll miss my melodious voice._

Wraith smiled at the message, to his surprise. She looked the same as she always did after staying in the hospital--exhausted. Elliott quickly added a _You good?_ to the bottom of his message.

“I’ve had worse.” She stepped into the room, giving Ashwin a nervous glance. Crypto stayed in the doorway. “They letting you out of here soon?”

Good question. He didn’t remember if the doctor had told him that bit. Elliott glanced at Ashwin and Pathfinder, hoping one of them remembered. “They said it should be another two days,” Pathfinder said helpfully. “Though he will need to rest for much longer after.”

That tracked. Elliott briefly met Crypto’s gaze; the other man nodded at him before stepping back into the hallway and out of sight. Elliott didn’t feel a pang of jealousy watching him go, but...honestly, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling about Crypto in that moment. Ah, well, he’d figure that out later. Right now, his attention was going back to Wraith, who was sitting down in the chair Ashwin was providing for her. “Well...I’ll head out, since the gang’s all here. Do you need me to smuggle you in anything?” Ashwin asked. Elliott shook his head. “Okay. If you do need anything, have someone get me, yeah?” He paused in the doorway. “I’m really glad you’re all okay.”

Elliott was quick to write _Thank you_ with three underlines on the notepad. Wraith and Pathfinder echoed the sentiment in near-unison, drawing a quiet laugh from Ashwin. “I’d say you’re making me blush, but…” He shrugged. “See you around.”

Wraith waited until he was gone before turning to Elliott and saying, “Did you hear he cursed out a bunch of reporters?”

The shocked look on Elliott’s face must’ve been all the answer she needed.

The footage of Ashwin cursing out those reporters was the only coverage of the games Elliott wanted to watch. The thought of looking up anything else twisted his gut and set his heart racing. Fortunately, Wraith seemed to agree, as once she dropped the matter completely once he was done watching the clip. She kept giving him these odd glances. He couldn’t quite decipher them.

 _I’m okay, really_ , he wrote after what felt like the fiftieth odd glance.

Wraith blinked, shook her head, sighed. “I know, it’s just…” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I know.”

Silence fell over the room, aside from the slight metal creak of Pathfinder looking at the both of them. Elliott wasn’t sure what to say. He could keep insisting that he was fine, but they all knew that wasn’t strictly true. He’d gotten his ass beat, and more than that, now that Wraith was actually there…

 _What happened?_ he wrote, then promptly crossed out because he didn’t really want to know. On a new page, he wrote, _You sure you’re good?_ and showed her.

“Yeah. Yeah, just...lot on my mind.” She stood up suddenly. “Hey, I’m going to get out of these clothes. I’ll come back later...if you want,” she added, weirdly hastily.

Elliott nodded before he could stop himself. Damn it, that definitely wouldn’t help with the whole crush thing...but y’know what? Screw it. He felt a lot better being able to see her. He could keep it together. He could _definitely_ keep it together. Hopefully.

That was what he told himself, at least.

Wraith left. Elliott watched her go. She was moving carefully, like she was still in pain. Did she have a rough landing? Or had those sons of bitches hurt her? The image of Wraith being held at gunpoint flashed through his mind. His chest felt tight at the memory--at how pale she had looked as she hovered over him, face full of worry...there had been blood on her face, the smell had been so strong...she’d been struggling to breathe, hadn’t she?

How injured had she been?

He changed his mind. He did want to know. _What happened?_ he wrote again, and this time he showed Pathfinder.

“She had a collapsed lung. Lifeline was able to release the trapped air.”

Collapsed lung. Her chest had been fling up with air that whole time. She’d almost died…

They’d _both_ almost died.

The slow, terrible realization of what he’d been through--what had almost happened to him, to _Wraith_ \--hit him all at once like a ton of bricks. Sure, he’d come close to death before, needed extensive operations within the past few months, but this was _different._ It had never been so drawn-out and brutal. No one had ever choked him before, and he’d never had to see Wraith held captive. Never had to see her so hurt…

Elliott tried to suppress the terrified sob that bubbled up in his chest, but it was useless. It was the kind of crying that couldn’t be stopped once it got started. He doubled over, hands pressed over his mouth, body shaking.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to pat it a bit clumsily. Pathfinder--Pathfinder trying to be comforting. Pathfinder seeing him _cry_ , which he normally would’ve hated, but...well, it was _Pathfinder._ For all the time he spent insisting that they were _best friends_ , he probably wouldn’t think less of Elliott after seeing him break down like this.

Maybe he’d known that deep down. Maybe that was why his brain had chosen now to break down. Like it knew, _it’s okay. It’s just Pathfinder. He won’t judge._

Fortunately, the cry didn’t last too long. Elliott couldn’t say that he felt _better_ once it was over, but he felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. Like now that he got that out of his system, he didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

Well, except for one detail.

 _Don’t tell Wraith_ , Elliott wrote.

“I won’t, friend. I promise.”

And, sure enough, when Wrath came back, Pathfinder didn’t say a word.

Elliott was starting to think he didn’t appreciate that robot enough.

If Wraith noticed that Elliott still had a bit of _post-cry_ face going, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t say much of anything at all, really. She seemed content to just sit by his bed, still watching at him.

That was fine. Elliott couldn’t do much talking, anyways. And now that his mental breakdown was done, he felt oddly exhausted. He settled down in his bed and kept his gaze on Wraith as best he could as he struggled to stay awake.

He could’ve sworn he felt her take his hand as he finally gave up and fell back asleep, but he couldn’t be sure.

The next two days were a lot of the same--Elliott not really able to talk much, even when his voice recovered after that first day, Wraith there more often than not, still glancing at him sideways, while Pathfinder made sure to fill in any silences with news about what was going on around the compound. Ashwin stopped by a few times, Lifeline once (she said everything looked like it was healing correctly, which was weirdly more comforting coming from her), but apparently pretty much everyone was staying out of Elliott’s hair until he was feeling better.

That was fine by him. The bruises on his neck still hadn’t faded all the way. He’d be wearing his scarf a lot until that cleared up. It was the one thing he asked Wraith to grab for him before he left the hospital and went out to face the compound.

He half-expected to be ambushed by reporters the second he set foot out of the place. He _was_ ambushed, but fortunately…

“Elliott!”

It was just Natalie. Okay, Natalie and Octane, with Lifeline jogging over, too, but hey, that was leaps and bounds better than reporters.

“Oh, are you all right? I heard about what happened…” Her eyes wandered to his scarf, as if she could see through it to see how bad the damage was. “Can you talk still?”

“Yeah,” Elliott said with a small smile. That soothed some of the bouncing-from-foot-to-foot Natalie was doing, though some still remained. Restless energy. She must’ve _really_ been worried about him. “Just gotta take it easy for a bit.”

“I thought you’d look worse,” Octane said. “Hey, did you hear they kicked out the three guys who jumped you?”

“... _no_ , that’s...news to me.” Elliott looked at Wrath in confusion. He hadn’t been _thrilled_ about being jumped by them, to be sure, but he didn’t think anything they’d done had been technically against the rules. Wraith had an odd look on her face, but it was the kind of odd look that shouldn’t be addressed in public, so Elliott didn’t ask her about it. He _did_ have a question for Octane: “Why?”

“Dunno. Just heard they did.” He was shifting from foot to foot too, but it was less nervous energy and more just...energy. “Heard Che cut open your throat. Is it gonna scar? That’d look... _ow!_ ”

Ajay had smacked Octane upside the back of his head before Elliott had time to be disturbed by the line of questioning. “ _Don’t_ ,” she scolded him. “You holding up okay?”

“I’m not any worse than any other regeneration,” Elliott said. He had the sudden urge to scratch at the mostly-healed neck wounds, but that would involve moving the scarf, and there was _no_ way he was doing that. “Physically, anyways. Emotionally, I am...not looking forward to the reporters.”

“They’ve doubled down on security,” Natalie said. “Someone tried to get in the hospital.”

Wraith groaned. “ _Really?_ ”

“They didn’t get far. I’m sure security is doing their jobs, but I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“You should shock them!” Pathfinder said immediately. The level of cheer made the suggestion sound sadistic, but in a way that immediately set Elliott off laughing. Octane laughed, too; even Wraith had to smile. “That will make them stay away.”

Natalie giggled; before she could reply, though, a new voice joined the conversation.

“Mister Witt, Miss...Wraith.”

Their impromptu group turned in near-unison. One of the Apex officials was standing behind them; Elliott didn’t remember his name, but he remembered his haircut. It was a pretty standard business cut, but the dude’s hairline was _suffering_ for someone who didn’t look too much older than Elliott. “It’s good to see you’re both out and about,” said the suit with the weird hairline. “We were hoping to discuss something with you…” He glanced at Pathfinder. “And...your third team mate, if it’s interested.”

“You can ask him directly,” Wraith said. “He can hear you.”

Pathfinder’s chest was a neutral face. After a long beat, it switched back to a cheerful one. “If it’s about the match and my friends don’t mind, I would like to attend this meeting,” he said.

“You can come,” Elliott said. He couldn’t help shooting the Suit a look. Elliott might’ve had some...pretty public beef with Pathfinder in the past, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how upset Pathfinder had been about everything, how he’d tried to comfort Elliott a few days ago. It hadn’t been the best comfort, but honestly? Pathfinder was kind of better than some of the people here.

Definitely better than _Suit_ , whatever the hell his name was.

“...of course. Let’s just go to my office, then.”

Elliott waved goodbye to the others as he walked away; they all looked varying degrees of confused and intrigued. They would definitely be bombarding him with questions once this was over. Hopefully he’d actually be able to give them answers.

There was another person standing in the corner of the room when they entered Suit’s office. Looked like a lawyer. _Great._ “I wanted to let you know we’ve conducted a thorough investigation into the cause of your accident,” he said. “We wanted to let you know the results of our findings before we officially announce them to the press. One of our other competitors somehow gained access to the equipment room…”

“Meathead?” Elliott blurted. Suit gave him a baffled look. “Sorry...McCormick. That guy.”

“There is no direct evidence that James McCormick was directly involved. We have video evidence of Richard Wilson interfering with the jump packs. However, since both James McCormick and Andrew Jordan benefitted from his sabotage, they have been removed from the Apex Legends competition for the rest of the season. They will have the option to rejoin the Hyperfighting Federation and go through the qualifying rounds if they so choose for a later season.”

There was something else Barker had told Elliott back in the day--a second caveat to that _only trust people 95%_ comment, after the part about trusting people who take a bullet for you. _If someone tells you who they are, believe them. Good or bad._ Suit might’ve said that Meathead wasn’t involved, but he’d made it _abundantly_ clear what kind of guy he was. He _must_ have known.

“Wilson said something to McCormick before we jumped,” Wraith said quietly. “He must have known. Probably asked him to do it.”

“Yeah, McCormick _hated_ me,” Elliott added quickly. “He landed right next to me, they were using Wraith as bait…”

“They were definitely using me as bait,” Wraith agreed. “This was planned and he was in on it.”

Suit shook his head immediately. “I understand where you’re coming from. The thought did come up and we interviewed all three competitors. The evidence only points to Wilson having independently sabotaged the equipment. There’s no evidence that McCormick or Jordan knew, only that they followed his lead as he…”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Elliott snapped, suddenly unable to stop himself. “Guys like Wilson have never had an independent thought in their lives. What the hell was he whispering to McCormick? Is Wraith’s word not good enough?”

“For a contractual decision, no, it’s not. We can only make decisions based on solid evidence, not circumstantial.” Suit leaned forward. “I understand this must be difficult…”

Elliott laughed incredulously. “I was nearly irreparably maimed back there,” he said. At least this time when his voice cracked, it felt like an appropriate punctuation of his statement and not an indignity. “ _Difficult_ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“...but we’re going to have to ask you not to discuss this matter with anyone. Spreading unsubstantiated theories about the other competitors could be construed as slander…”

“It’s not slander if it’s the truth.”

“And it’s not the truth unless you can prove it.” Suit pulled out a tablet and turned it towards them. “This is a non-disclosure agreement. We’re going to have to ask you to sign.”

_You’re kidding me._

Elliott wasn’t stupid; he knew there was a lot of bullshit associated with getting involved with the Syndicate. It was the same as getting involved with most major organizations, just a bit more cutthroat. He just...hadn’t been expecting anything to go like this. “So what the hell are we supposed to tell people?” he asked finally.

“You can tell them whatever you want as long as you don’t make any accusations.”

Pathfinder raised his hand. “Am I also bound by this agreement?” he asked.

Suit looked at Pathfinder, then at Elliott and Wraith, then narrowed his eyes. “You know what? Yes, actually. It’s a good thing you came in here after all.”

Elliott did his best to read the agreement before signing. It was a lot of dense legal talk that went right over his head, but he was pretty sure the gist of it was _don’t go out there throwing around McCormick’s name, especially not to the press._ He signed, because he was pretty sure he didn’t have any other option, but he wasn’t happy about it.

_I can’t believe this shit is actually happening._

Wraith didn’t seem happy about it, either. She stayed silent as she signed, and was the first one up and out the door once they were dismissed. Elliott followed, with Pathfinder behind him. “I was going to tell people if you couldn’t,” Pathfinder explained. “I think you’re right about the Hammer. People should know.”

Elliott sighed. “Thanks for the thought, bud…hey, Wraith, wait up!”

She finally slowed down, but still didn’t speak once they’d caught up. She looked _really_ pissed. She’d been keeping it together back in the office, but now that they were alone, he could see the frustration building on her face. “Hey, you okay?” Elliott asked quietly. 

“I’m…” Her jaw clenched slightly. “ _Pissed_ , but...nothing we can do about it. Are _you_ okay with this?”

“...no, but you’re right. Nothing much we can do.” Hopefully, court of public opinion would go against Meathead and his lackeys. That was the only thing Elliott could hope for right now. “ _Ugh_ . I’m not gonna be able to show my face for _months_.”

“They’ll forget. Hey, maybe if you ask Octane, he’ll fabricate a scandal for us. Something to distract them.”

Elliott laughed, despite the fact that it wasn’t really _that_ funny. “Y’know, he’d probably do it if he was bored enough.” Not that he would ask; Lifeline would kill him if he did. “ _Ugh_...I really need to go shower. I still smell like the hospital.”

“You think you’ll be okay to walk back on your own? I’d go with you, but...I need to think.”

“I should be…”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Pathfinder asked. “Just to be safe. I’m not doing anything right now.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” Elliott turned back to Wraith. “Will _you_ be okay?”

Wraith nodded. “I’ll be okay. You go shower and rest. I’ll see you later.”

It was funny; she said that she needed to think, but Elliott was pretty sure that she didn’t actually go anywhere. He could’ve sworn he felt her eyes on him as he walked away. It felt...weird. Especially after all the avoiding he’d been doing.

“Is she okay?” Elliott asked Pathfinder once they were really and truly out of earshot.

“I think she was just worried about you. You were very badly injured, friend.”

Good point, but he’d been badly injured before. Maybe it was the context? “Maybe you should try talking to her,” Pathfinder added. “I noticed you two haven’t been spending a lot of time together lately. Is something wrong?”

Damn it. He should’ve known Pathfinder would notice. “It’s...complicated.” Elliott might’ve been appreciating Pathfinder’s friendship more and more over the past few days, but there was no way he was cracking open that egg. “She didn’t do anything, I’ve just been...dealing with some stuff.”

“Is it anything I can help with?”

“I don’t think so, but thanks.” _Not unless you can somehow erase my damn crush._

That was gonna be a problem again, wasn’t it?

Not that it hadn’t _not_ been a problem. But before, he hadn’t had to face his mortality and see Wraith that badly hurt…

 _She had a collapsed lung._ **_Shit._ **

“Are you all right?”

Damn. When had he stopped walking? “Yeah,” Elliott thought. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He wasn’t good.

He tried to be--tried really hard to just shower, settle down in bed, consider if he wanted to jump through the hoops necessary to get food delivered to him or risk being seen in public. But every step he took was haunted by the memories of what happened. Not so much to him; for some reason, none of that seemed to matter. He kept thinking about Wraith. Feeling responsible, on some level, because maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he’d been able to keep his idiot mouth shut and _not_ piss off the vindictive steroid-addled piece of shit that had nearly gotten both of them killed.

_Breathe, Elliott, you had no idea it was going to get that bad, you didn’t know…_

But maybe he should’ve. He was a legend. He’d been around aggro assholes like Meathead more than once. He should’ve known better. And now Wraith was probably in pain because of him…

She’d been hurt. He’d done that.

All thoughts of dinner flew right out of his head, replaced by a gnawing, terrified anxiety. He had to talk to her. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to confess the full extent of what he was feeling in that moment, especially because his feelings were getting all tangled up and mixed together so he couldn’t figure out what they were, but he had to at least apologize because this entire situation was his fault and…

Someone knocked on his door.

Elliott froze. What...who…? Was it Natalie? He’d never really gotten back to her, had he? Elliott swallowed nervously and forced himself to the door. It took him an extra second to plaster on a smile...and it was an extra second wasted, because the smile was knocked right off his face when he saw who it was.

“...hey,” Wraith said.

“Hey,” Elliott replied. “Uhm.” As it turned out, just because he’d been thinking about talking to her didn’t mean he was actually _ready_ to talk to her. This was too unexpected. But...shit, what could he do. “Are you okay?”

Wraith didn’t reply. She was just staring at him, looking...weirdly unsure for someone like Wraith. _Okay, what in the actual hell is going on?_ “Are you hurt?” Elliott asked, suddenly worried. Maybe she’d popped a stitch or something but she didn’t want to go back to the hospital. “Is something…?”

“No, no, I’m...I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I guess after everything that happened, I just really wanted to be sure you were okay.”

...Oh.

“I’m…” He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he could transmit his messed-up emotions directly into her head, though he kind of wished he could. It would be a lot easier than trying to explain himself. “Kinda shaken, I guess.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They both stood there, staring at each other, an awkward silence settling over the hallway. The tension was starting to get unbearable. _Say something. Say something, come on…_

“I haven’t gotten dinner yet,” Elliott blurted. “Do you…? Want to stick around? We can order something together or…”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Well, she agreed to that one fast. He hadn’t expected that. Then again, this entire situation was kind out there, so he was hitting the point where he was just rolling with it. Maybe by the time they got food and he’d actually eaten, he would’ve thought of what to say.

They got the food. They sat down on the floor in Elliott’s room. They didn’t eat right away. They just kept looking at each other. Elliott wasn’t sure what to say. He poked quietly at his food. He tried not to keep looking at her like he was sure she was going to collapse.

He struggled to think of what to do. What to say.

“...you want a drink?” he blurted finally.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the _best_ plan, but getting a drink was usually a decent place to start social interactions. Focusing on making a drink would distract him until he could figure out what to do. 

And he could _really_ use a drink anyways.

“Yeah,” Wraith said. “Yeah. What was...that drink you made when you fixed my hair?”

“Yeah, I think I still have fireball…” Elliott got up and checked his liquor stash. “Yep. We’re good.”

He mixed the drinks. He sat back down, passed Wraith hers, and took a long drain from his. “Hell of a week, huh?” he said.

Wraith smiled slightly and sipped her own. “Yeah. Hell of a week.”

They ate. They drank. They still didn’t talk, but the silence felt a bit easier this time. It was probably the alcohol. When they were done eating, Elliott made them a second drink.

...here was the thing.

He was a grown adult who had grown up in a part of the Frontier where the drinking age was 18. It would be completely dishonest of him to say that he hadn’t had any alcohol before that, but if asked by a cop, he’d taken his first sip at age 18 like the law intended. He was a bar owner. He knew what alcohol did and he knew his limits.

With the amount of alcohol he’d consumed--one not especially strong drink and a few sips into the second, taken with not-especially-sugary food--he should not have started feeling drunk

He was starting to feel drunk. Drunk enough words started tumbling out.

“Hey, but listen, are you _really_ okay?” he asked. “Are you... _really_ really okay?”

Wraith frowned slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, why?”

“Pathfinder told me you had a collapsed lung.”

Wraith’s nose wrinkled slightly. “He told you that?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“Not as bad as having emergency surgery to help you breathe.” To his surprise, Wraith reached over to tug at his scarf and check on his neck wound. “Are _you_ really really okay?”

“...y-yeah. It’s nothing. They’ve got some of the best surgeons in the world here. I’m golden.”

Wraith looked him in the eyes very sternly. “Don’t lie to me.”

“...I’m…”

“ _Elliott_.” She actually jabbed him in the chest with her pointer finger. “Don’t lie to me.”

Damn. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her so serious. “Okay, I feel like shit,” he said. “I almost died, okay? _You_ almost died, and honestly that’s messing me up way more than the fact that I almost died…” He took another long sip from his drink, despite the fact that his logic brain said that wasn’t the best idea. “You’re one of the only friends I have. I don’t want to lose you, Wraith.”

It wasn’t quite a confession, but it was _close_ , and his increasingly-quiet logic brain knew it. Did he care? Well...logic brain wasn’t sure. Drunk brain wasn’t sure, either.

_Not helpful, me._

As he mulled over that, Wraith withdrew back to her own personal bubble. She was staring into what was left of her drink. It looked like she had drunk more than him. “Can I ask you a stupid question?” she asked.

“Sure,” Elliott said, grateful for the distraction.

“What do you mean when you say I’m one of your only friends?”

Elliott laughed bitterly. “Come on. You know what I’m like. People are mostly just tolerating me. Except you and Pathfinder. Maybe Natalie, but she loves everyone, so I don’t think...”

Wraith shook her head fiercely. “That’s not true. Plenty of people like you.”

“No, no, they really don’t.” He set his glass down and flopped onto the floor, lying on his side staring into what was left of it. Damn, he already wanted to take a nap. Did regeneration rob him of his ability to hold a drink? “Nobody loves me. Except my mom.”

“ _No._ Elliott...Elliott Joseph... _Elliott._ ” Wraith started tugging on his arm. “Elliott Witt, you look at me right now.”

Elliott did, pushing himself up on one elbow and meeting her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed pink...they had been for a while, now that he thought about it. Was...was Wraith drunk? He’d never seen her drunk. He hadn’t made the drinks _that_ strong. How were they already drunk?! “Elliott,” she repeated.

“...yeah?”

“Elliott, listen to me.” She leaned forward, clumsily resting a hand on his arm. “Your mom isn’t the only one who loves you, okay?”

Elliott’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “...what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“ _Elliott._ I think...I think you’re _amazing_...okay? I think…” She leaned closer. “I really think.”

She didn’t finish. She just kept staring at him, confusion slowly growing in her eyes. Elliott stared back.

“...did...did you just say you think I’m amazing?” Elliott said finally.

“Yes.”

“...wait, hold on, do you…”

Wraith suddenly got up and ran to the bathroom. The gagging sound that followed was almost immediately familiar to him. He’d heard more than enough of it in the bar. He knew that the bro move would be to get up and hold her hair back, make sure she was okay, but he was frozen in place, weighed down by the alcohol and the words that had just come tumbling out of Wraith’s mouth.

And, perhaps more relevantly, the one thing she hadn’t said explicitly.

_I’m sorry...did Wraith just admit she loves me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random note: Elliott's first clear memory being of eating chocolate pudding is based on my real-life wisdom tooth removal, wherein I was knocked out, woke up, went through some events that I don't have concrete visuals of but know happened, and then next thing I remember clearly I'm sitting at the table eating a chocolate shake. I didn't say anything stupid or go on social media and post gibberish, so I have that going for me.
> 
> Also, for the record, I know this isn't how alcohol works, but there will be an explanation next chapter. Also also, this chapter was going to be a LOT angstier in the original draft but in a late rework I decided...y'know what, no, this will be funnier. You hate the start of third act misunderstanding. Make it a "start of third act bad confession." (I can spill the details on how this chapter was ORIGINALLY going to go if anyone is curious.)


	16. Chapter 16

It had been a long time since Tae Joon had been roused from sleep by a text. For a brief, fleeting second, he was back home, fumbling for his phone to answer a late night text from Mila.

But the name on the screen wasn’t hers. It was...Wraith?

Tae Joon frowned and checked the message. Just one word: _hlep_

He was out of bed and going for the door almost immediately. He’d given her his number--well, one of his numbers--just in case something went wrong. She might have been able to walk on her own, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have health problems later on. He’d doubted she’d be keen to go back to the hospital, but at least this way, she’d have someone who could assist her.

_Where are you?_ Tae Joon texted back as he slipped on shoes and grabbed his coat.

_eliot_ was her reply.

Maybe it wasn’t her hurt. Maybe it was Mirage. Either way, he kept walking. He had a rough idea of where Mirage’s room was; he had to walk by it to get to the cafeteria. The entire way there, he contemplated what might be wrong, if he would need to hunt down Lifeline, or possibly another medical expert.

Of all the situations he’d considered, he didn’t expect to knock on the door and have it be answered by Mirage, standing on both feet, but _clearly_ intoxicated.

“Wraith doesn’t love you?!” Mirage said, confused and indignant.

_...what._

“Is she okay?” Tae Joon asked. He needed to be sure that she was okay before he started getting clarification. “She texted me.”

“I‘m here,” Wraith called weakly. “I can’t get up.”

Tae Joon stepped into the room and took in the scene. Wraith was curled up on the floor near the bathroom. He could faintly smell vomit somewhere in the space. There were two finished meals and two mostly-empty glasses on the floor. He picked up one and smelled it. Alcohol. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out. They’d both had dinner, a drink or two...it would’ve been completely normal if it hadn’t been for their recent medical treatments.

He wasn’t completely heartless. He stopped first to make sure that Wraith wasn’t injured or at risk of asphyxiation. It was only once he confirmed that she was, at worst, embarrassed and still a bit nauseous that he said, “You know you’re not supposed to drink for a week after regeneration, right?”

From the pause that settled over the room, they either hadn’t known or had completely forgotten. Mirage he expected that from. Wraith...not so much.

“...ah, shit…” Tae Joon heard the creaking of bedsprings as Mirage sat down. “ _Shit_ …I forgot…”

“Since _when?_ ” Wraith asked.

“Since always. They told _me_ during orientation.” Maybe the hospital staff never refreshed their memories on that. Seemed like an oversight to him, but considering everything he’d been learning about the Syndicate, he wasn’t too shocked. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I just…” She looked past him towards Mirage. Her already red face grew redder. “I don’t know.”

Tae Joon glanced over at Mirage. He was staring at the two of them while rubbing one eye. He still looked confused, as if he was expecting to see something there but...didn’t. “...maybe you two should sleep it off,” Tae Joon said finally. “I’ll take you back to your room, okay?”

Wraith held out her hand for a boost up. Mirage kept staring. If his head tilted any more, he’d fall off the bed. He looked like a puppy hearing a strange noise for the first time. “...I just...I really thought…you _really don’t_ …?!” he stammered.

Tae Joon was starting to get a feeling for what must have happened. It was _not_ something he wanted to be a part of, and looking at Wraith, she wasn’t sober enough to deal with it, either. So, he said, “Go to bed, old man. You can talk tomorrow” and walked out the door before Elliott could start yelling at him indignantly.

Wraith was quiet for about half their walk. “You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?” Tae Joon asked, both to check on her condition and because he genuinely didn’t want to be thrown up on.

“I didn’t mean to tell him that,” Wraith said in response. She sounded upset. When Tae Joon glanced at her, she was _visibly_ upset, still red-faced for reasons beyond her drunkenness. “I was going to tell him something…something else…he wasn’t supposed to know, not yet…”

_Not yet?_ What the hell did that mean? “He might not even remember it tomorrow,” he said, trying to be comforting. It came to him more easily than he thought it would, seeing as it had been a _very_ long time since he’d had to comfort a drunk person. “Don’t worry about it.”

Wraith shook her head. “No. No, I got his hopes up, but he’s going to hate me when…” She stopped, then scowled. “Oh, _shut up!_ Where have you for all of this?! You want to give me advice now?!”

“…I didn’t…”

“Not _you_. _Her_.” Wraith pointed at nothing. “Thinks she can just butt in when she hasn’t been _any_ help.”

Tae Joon knew a little bit about Wraith’s skill set. That knowledge—that she had an uncanny ability to sniff out potential risks, had referenced “voices” that aided her—was the only thing keeping him from thinking that she had been drugged as well. It _did_ raise more questions about how exactly all of that worked, but he doubted she’d be in any state to give him concrete answers. “The little birdie you’ve talked about?” he guessed anyway.

“One of them, yeah.” Wraith glowered at the part of the hallway as they walked past. The glower quickly gave way to the same depressed, embarrassed expression she’d been wearing before. “I screwed up.”

_Clearly._ “You didn’t,” was what he actually said out loud because again, he wasn’t heartless. Thankfully, they were at her room by that point. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”

He got her inside, only helped her with her shoes when it became abundantly clear that she wasn’t going to get them off herself. He made sure she was on her side when she lay down in bed. He thought about leaving, but knew better. He couldn’t remember what the side effects were of combining the various post-regeneration medications and alcohol were, but even if they were just _regular drunkenness, but faster_ , she was drunk enough that she’d need supervision.

Fortunately, she had a robot friend who didn’t need to sleep, and who was perfectly eager to come over when he used her phone to contact him. Tae Joon had Pathfinder contact Ashwin Narita too, because _someone_ needed to look after Mirage and _he_ damn well wasn’t going to do it. “Make sure she stays on her side. Wake her up a few times in the first hour and make sure she doesn’t have alcohol poisoning.” He consulted his phone; again, it had been a while since he’d had to look after a drunk person. He had to be reminded of the potential risks. “If she has clammy skin, starts puking uncontrollably, her breathing is irregular, or she falls unconscious, get her to a doctor. Other than that, just…don’t let her do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” Pathfinder looked at Wraith, who had fallen asleep not too long before he got there. “Will she be okay?”

“She’ll be hung over tomorrow, but I don’t think it will be anything worse than that. Did you contact Narita?”

“I did. He said he’d be at Elliott’s soon.” Pathfinder gave Tae Joon a thumbs up. “Thank you for helping her. I’m glad Wraith is making more friends.”

_We’re not friends,_ Tae Joon almost said. He stopped himself, though, because Pathfinder wouldn’t want to hear it. That, and if he was being honest…

He shook the thought away. “No problem.”

He didn’t let himself think about it, even after he had left.

Fortunately, he had other things to think about. Like the fact that Mirage _apparently_ thought Wraith was in love with him. If Tae Joon’s assessment of the situation was right, he guessed the topic had come up because Wraith had confessed to being in love with Mirage—a fact that Tae Joon might not have guessed right away looking at them, but accumulated a lot of evidence as he thought back on it. Wraith’s protectiveness suddenly made a lot more sense; maybe what he’d chalked up to overly-friendly and flirtatious banter on Mirage’s fault had been an attempt at flirting.

_Horrible attempt, really_.

Regardless, it seemed that Tae Joon had somehow not only put his foot into a situation where he was now close to someone who was _also_ looking for information and had secrets, but also a situation where he was the third point on a love triangle that didn’t exist.

Tae Joon sighed heavily and cursed under his breath. He was definitely going to have to do that tomorrow. He might have accidentally stumbled into a friendship in this hellhole of a game, but there was _no_ way he was letting himself be dragged into something like _that_ as well.

He just hoped they would be sober enough tomorrow to work things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, next few chapters will probably take longer because they'll be full chapters and not "beleaguered Crypto interlude." But they will also have some juicy content, so hopefully they'll be worth the wait!


	17. Chapter 17

She woke up with a headache and a deep-rooted sense that she had screwed up irreparably.

Then she remembered what happened last night.

“... _damn it,_ ” Wraith groaned into her pillow.

“Good morning, friend!” said a voice in response. Pathfinder. Pathfinder? What? “I got you water!”

Wraith wanted to ask why Pathfinder was there. But she was _really_ thirsty now that she thought about it, so she decided answers could wait. She took the water bottle from him and started drinking. _not too fast_ , whispered one of the voices.

 _Shut up,_ Wraith thought back, on the off chance the voice could somehow read her mind. _I don’t want to talk to you right now._ That probably wasn’t fair, but she was too hung over to care.

“Are you okay?” Pathfinder asked when she paused her drinking. “Crypto said you were intoxicated and that I should make sure you don’t have alcohol poisoning. Do you feel ill?”

She definitely wasn’t okay, but the alcohol and potential alcohol poisoning had nothing to do with it.

“No, I don’t think it’s…alcohol poisoning. I’m just hung over and…I need to think,” Wraith said finally. She couldn’t make herself focus. It felt like the nightmare version of waking up from a regeneration--and that was already pretty nightmarish. Why the _hell_ had she thought drinking would be a good idea? She dragged herself out of bed, despite the way her entire body protested. “I’m okay, Path. You don’t have to worry about me.”

A question mark popped up on Pathfinder’s chest. “Are you sure?”

“I’m really fine. I’m gonna just…” She dragged herself out of the bed. “Going to shower and walk this off. Thank you for checking up on me.”

She’d have to thank Cryto, too, for providing her with an exit and making sure someone looked after her. But not right now. Right now she had other things she needed to consider.

Like the fact that she’d _jumped the gun on talking to Elliott about the fact that she might have been in love with him._ Great job on _that_ one, idiot.

She couldn’t let herself think about it, though. It wouldn’t go anywhere and she knew it. She’d try to sort it out once she’d showered. “Thanks, Path,” she repeated before stumbling to the bathroom.

She showered. She brushed her teeth. She managed to get her hair combed and back into its bun with minimal tangling. She put on one of her only clean outfits, thought about whether she should get breakfast and ultimately decided to put it off until she was sure she wouldn’t just throw it all back up. She was ready for a morning of trying to sort through her messy, traitorous thoughts on her own, but when she stepped outside of her room Pathfinder was standing in the hallway. He was staring off into space, not having noticed her opening the door. Wraith had seen him do that before. She wondered what he thought about in those moments, if he thought about anything at all.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked.

Pathfinder’s eye fixed on her. “I was worried that you might still be intoxicated. I didn’t want you to collapse while walking.”

That was fair enough. She _had_ combined drugs with alcohol when she wasn’t supposed to, though how she’d forgotten _that_ bit of medical advice was beyond her. If she had to guess, her mind had chosen to dump the thought because she assumed she wouldn’t be doing much drinking. That was mostly true—she rarely drank, even after she started hanging around Elliott’s bar, and usually after a regeneration she spent the first week and a half in hiding. Last night had just been a series of one-in-a-million incidents that had culminated in… _that_.

And now she had no way of knowing if she was going to abruptly pass out from the alcohol-drugs combination. So…maybe having someone around wouldn’t hurt. Besides, it wasn’t like she could get more undignified around people she knew than she had been last night.

“Okay,” she said quietly, trying for a smile. “Thanks.”

They walked out of the building and to the compound. There wasn’t anyone out except for some janitorial MRVNs; she’d somehow managed to wake up early despite her hangover. Still, Wraith tried to stick to areas that she knew weren’t as heavily occupied. She spent the first part of the walking trying to get her ducks in order, metaphorically speaking, but her mind just kept circling back to the way Elliott had stared at her as Crypto dragged her out of the room. Wide-eyed. Confused. Trying to confirm that she’d said what she’d said and that she _wasn’t_ in love with Crypto. She hadn’t been able to answer him—everything had been too much and too loud and _not_ at all how she had wanted it to go. Now, looking back, all she could think was what he must think of her. How he might have been interpreting her silence, assuming he was awake and not too hung over to dwell on it.

“Is something troubling you, friend?” Pathfinder asked.

Should she lie to him? Deflect? She wasn’t able to think of a proper lie, so she decided to go for the truth. “I…had a talk with Elliott. It didn’t go the way I thought it would.”

“Is it about how you love him?”

Wraith froze. _What did he just say?_

Pathfinder either didn’t notice or misinterpreted the way Wraith was staring at him, because he kept talking: “Does he not feel the same way? Is that why you were intoxicated?”

“Wh…no, it’s…” Wraith’s hung over brain struggled to catch up. “Why did…why do you think that’s what it was about? Why do you think I…?”

“You treat him differently than you do other people. You even differently than how you treat me, so it’s not because he’s your friend, or your best friend.” Pathfinder stopped, his head tilting, a question mark popping up on his chest. “Was I wrong?”

Again, she found herself faced with the prospect of lying. It was what she would’ve done with anyone else, under any other circumstances. But here, now, after the night she’d had? She wasn’t sure she could. She needed an outside opinion, _someone_ to help her sort this out. Pathfinder was pretty much the only person she trusted with something like that.

“…you’re not completely wrong,” she said. “I think _love_ is a strong word for it, but I like him…differently than I like you.”

Pathfinder’s question marked turn to an exclamation point, and he bounced in place slightly in a display of excitement—at having been right or at the fact that she _liked_ someone like that, she couldn’t say. His excitement faded, the exclamation point turning to a concerned face. “What did he say when you told him?”

“We didn’t really get to that part. I started throwing up, and he was confused…it was a mess. I didn’t even mean to say what I said.”

“Why not?”

This conversation was nothing but one big mine field of things she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about. She could admit more to Pathfinder, but that would involve more than just explaining her motivations. It would mean telling him… _everything._

But maybe she owed him that, after all the times she’d risked a match to get information. Or maybe she realized that it would only be fair to tell him, because telling Elliott and not Pathfinder didn’t feel right. Or maybe she was just sick of being alone in her pain. It was probably all three.

“There was something else I wanted to tell him about…something I wanted him to know before I told hi about how I felt. It’s kind of a big deal, and I didn’t want him to find out _after_ I told him, just in case…”

_Just in case he cares about me, too._

“But I screwed it up and I said the wrong thing first because I was drunk and now it’s all a mess…” She groaned quietly and rubbed her eyes. “Damn it.”

Pathfinder didn’t say anything for a bit. She thought at first he was waiting for her to gather her thoughts and keep talking, but just as she finally got it together and was about to explain herself further…

“He treats you differently too, you know.”

It was such a simple comment, but it made her heart skip a beat. The comment meant almost as much to her as if the words had come out of Elliott’s own mouth. “…do you think so?”

Pathfinder nodded. “He smiles at you a lot when you aren’t looking at him.”

Her heart was racing. Stupid hope, hope she thought she’d crushed down into nothingness, was blooming around her ribs again. She tried to breathe through it. “I believe you, I just…I don’t know if he’d feel that if he knew about the thing I was going to tell him about. That’s why I was going to wait. I didn’t want to get his hopes up and then change everything.”

“What were you going to tell him about? I don’t think anything could change his mind.”

That was the thing. She really didn’t know that for sure.

Wraith almost told him everything, right then and there. But it occurred to her, suddenly, that she wasn’t sure she could tell this story twice. She also wasn’t sure she could tell it to Elliott’s face. Not anymore, not after last night, and definitely not when she was like this.

Maybe, though…maybe she had another option.

“Hey, do you…think you could help me with something?”

It terrified her to ask. But she had set things in motion last night—took the first step on a path she couldn’t turn back from. Time to finish the journey.

Even if she was terrified of what was waiting for her at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I'm such a bad judge of chapter length, I thought for sure this was going to take longer.
> 
> OH, almost forgot, as long as I'm sharing original versions of chapters...this event was going to happen more or less in the same way, Wraith is hungover, goes for a misery walk, gets a pep talk from Pathfinder where he reveals that he knows EVERYTHING about everything and encourages her. But the context of the conversation would've been Wraith feeling bad for accidentally rejecting Elliott after the previous night's misunderstanding (see the comments on the last fic for more context about that) and not her having accidentally spilled her guts. She also asks a different person for help with The Thing She's Gonna Do but I'll explain more about that with the next chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

He woke up to someone shaking his shoulder. Elliott groaned quietly and buried his face in the pillow. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled.

“You can have as many minutes as you want,” said a voice he almost didn’t recognize. “I just want to make sure you’re not dying.”

Elliott’s eyes snapped open.

The hand on his shoulder was robotic. The voice belonged to Ashwin Narita. He had a raging headache and a dry mouth and the weirdest feeling that something had gone _horribly_ wrong last night.

No, not wrong. Confusing? Maybe? He couldn’t think about it that long. Ashwin was shaking his shoulder again. “ _What?_ ” Elliott whined.

“Do you feel like you’re going to die?”

“ _Yes_.”

“In the regular hangover way or an _I’m actually going to die_ way?”

“Regular.” He knew what hangovers felt like. This was… _pretty_ normal, though his head hurt more than usual. “Why?”

“Good. I’m gonna go out in the hall. I have to take a call. Just…don’t go anywhere, okay? We can talk about grabbing you breakfast once I’m done.”

Breakfast. Ugh. Would he be able to eat? He felt like trash. He knew it was the _smart_ thing to do, but… _ugh_. “Okay,” he grumbled into his pillow, just so Ashwin would leave him alone. “Take your call.”

Ashwin stepped out. Elliott thought about going back to sleep once the simulacrum had shut the door, just to escape his raging headache. Unfortunately, he knew it wasn’t going to work like that. He was awake now. Time to face his bad decisions.

What _had_ those bad decisions been, anyway? Obviously drinking was one of them, but what was the whole story?

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to trace the events of the day before. Gotten let out of the hospital…had the talk with Suit…signed a NDA…went back to his room to stew and be worried…Wraith had come over… _right,_ Wraith had come over, they’d gotten dinner. And then he’d been so stupid and eager to take the edge off his anxiousness that he’d gone against medical advice and poured them both drinks.

Okay, he’d also just straight up forgotten that was a thing. He wasn’t usually eager to party after a regen, so it wasn’t a rule he’d dwelled on too much. But no matter how you sliced it, he’d been _stupid as hell_ , and now he was suffering the consequences.

But there was more to it than just him getting plastered on accident. What else had happened? He closed his eyes and struggled to remember. They had been talking…he’d been _moody_ , he was pretty sure, though about _what_ he wasn’t sure. Probably the usual self-pitying nonsense. And then Wraith had…

Wraith had…

_Wait._

Elliott shot up so abruptly that it made him dizzy. He blinked through it, rubbing his eyes, remembering what had happened. Wraith had been…reassuring, leaning in close, saying something about how...about how his mom wasn’t the only one that loved him…?

_What? **What?!**_

Had Wraith really said that she _loved him?_ Okay, maybe not directly, but…had she really said that?

Now he was hung over, achy, dehydrated, and confused beyond words. _Frozen_ with confusion, actually. If he was remembering correctly, Wraith might have admitted to returning his affections. Affections she didn’t know he had, to be fair…had he just been oblivious to her feelings this whole time? That did sound like something he’d do…but what were the chances that was the case? That the secret hope he’d been harboring this entire time was being fulfilled?

_No, no way, there’s no way I’d be that lucky, **no way**_ **…**

Someone knocked on the door.

Elliott nearly fell out of bed in surprise, then nearly fell again in his desperate scramble to get to the door. It was probably Ashwin, but he’d be lying if he wasn’t hoping, _desperately_ hoping that maybe it was Wraith and maybe they could figure this whole thing out and…

Crypto was standing in the doorway.

“…uh… _hi?_ Hey, wait, what are you…”

What he was doing was shoving his way into Elliott’s room, shutting the door behind them as he went. “ _Excuse me?!”_ Elliott balked.

“I’m not in love with Wraith,” Crypto said. “And she has never expressed any kind of interest in me. But I’m assuming that she expressed interest in _you_ last night, correct?”

“…uh…” Elliott’s brain scrambled to catch up and failed miserably. “I mean…I think so…?”

“And you are interested in her?”

“Uh, that’s none of your business.”

“It shouldn’t be. But you made it my business by asking stupid questions last night, so do you _like her_ or _not?!_ ”

“Of course I like her! Have you seen her?!” Okay, was that too much? That was probably too much, but his mouth was still going. “I’d have to be stupid and blind not to!”

“Then _figure it out with her and leave me out of it._ I don’t want to spend the rest of my time here with you looking at me like I killed your dog because you saw something that wasn’t there. Understood?”

“…yeah, I _guess_ …”

Crypto turned around and left, letting the door close behind him. Elliott froze, blinking. What the actual _hell_ just happened.

“…hey! Hey, you get back here…!”

But by the time he made it out to the hallway, Crypto was gone. Ashwin was still there, off his phone, face unreadable as ever. He really needed to invest in one of Pathfinder’s mood display things. It was freaky not being able to tell what he was thinking. “…uh, what was that?” Ashwin asked, a slight hint of laughter in his voice.

“…I have no idea,” Elliott said. Which, okay, partially a lie, but not completely. And so what if he was lying? He didn’t have the brain cells left to explain himself. “ _Ugh,_ can you just…shoot me in the face?”

“Why the hell would I do that? I went to all that trouble saving your ass.” Ashwin still sounded like he was laughing, but also concerned. “Tell you what, you take a shower and I’ll bring you back something to eat. You probably don’t want to be seen in public in this state.”

No, he absolutely did not. “Thanks. Hey, how did you get in my room, anyways?”

“I knocked on the door. Crypto gave me a call, said you and Wraith were pretty plastered. We didn’t want you to die from alcohol poisoning in your sleep. Don’t worry, I had already done my reboot time for the night.”

“Okay. Wait, you have to reboot?”

“Four hours minimum. It’s nothing like sleeping, but it keeps the programming running the way it should. Do you have any breakfast preferences?”

“Just…whatever’s there, I guess.” The breakfast food was usually pretty okay. He couldn’t think of anything he outright hated. “Thanks again.”

“No problem. Just try not to pass out in the shower or anything, yeah?”

“I’ll try.”

And he managed to succeed—but mostly by cheating. Standing was too hard, so instead he sat on the floor of his shower as he let the hot water rinse away the alcohol smell. He also took the time to sort out his thoughts.

Wraith, he was pretty sure, had just confessed last night that she loved him. That could’ve been the alcohol talking, but maybe it was safe to assume that she _like-_ liked him (ugh, that made it sound like they were in middle school). Crypto had denied that he had any interest in Wraith, so…

_Do I have a shot?_

_Should I take the shot?_

That was the part that was terrifying him.

He’d avoided it because he was sure that she’d hate him once she got to know him. But, he had to admit…there was _no way_ she didn’t know what the real him was like after so long hanging out together, fighting together. He could also officially confirm that she had seen him at his worst, lowest moment in recent memory (not overall, but in the past few years, to be sure), and yet…she’d gone and said that to him. So maybe…

Maybe, maybe, _maybe_ , shit he _hated that word._ He’d been running away from _maybes_ for weeks, that was why he’d been avoiding her and everything. Better to avoid the question than risk the answer hurting him. That was what he’d _thought_ at least. Now, he wasn’t so sure. What good had it done him? All it had done was brought him a lot of awkwardness, pain, and lead to him sitting hungover in a shower with more questions than answers. Definitely _not_ the outcome he was looking for.

Crypto’s words echoed in his mind: _Figure it out._

He couldn’t believe he was thinking this but…damn it. Maybe the weird little twerp was onto something.

Elliott finally made an effort to actually bathe and drag himself out of the shower. Ashwin hadn’t come back by the time he was all done. That was probably for the best; he’d only been able to meet the bare minimum standard of personal hygiene, and getting dressed in real clothes had felt too daunting., In the end, he put on a bathrobe and boxers and flopped back on his bed, looking and feeling like the very personification of _a complete disaster_

The notification light on Elliott’s phone was blinking. He checked, stopping long enough to dim the screen and keep the light from stabbing his eyes out. First notification was from Ashwin. _Long line @ caf will be back asap_. That was fine by Elliott. Gave him some more time to himself to think.

One of the other notifications was a message from Mom: _Hope you’re feeling all right today. Let me know when you’ll be able to travel. I’ll get you room tided up._

Right, he had told her that, hadn’t he? He’d have to figure that out today. Honestly, he could use the vacation for more reasons than his injuries.

The final notification was an email. An email from…

Elliott’s heart stopped. _Nope. Nope, I can’t handle that, nope._

He put his phone down, then shoved it under his pillow for good measure. He sat on the bed, nursing his headache and sudden panic, waiting for Ashwin to come back. Ashwin did show up eventually with the bag of food. “You okay?” he asked immediately. “You look kinda freaked.”

“Uh…just…interpersonal stuff?” Oof, that was probably too revealing. Elliott scrambled to recover. “It’s been a crazy week. It’s all kind of catching up to me, you know?”

“Yeah, I feel that that. Anything I can do?”

“Nah, I’m…fine. I’ll figure it out. I’m an adult, I think.” Elliott laughed nervously. “Uh, thanks for breakfast, though. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Hey, Witt?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe. Just…you’ve got it, whatever it is. Also, whatever it is, it can probably wait until you’re less hung over?”

Elliott smiled, despite himself. He wasn’t sure he believed…either part, but he appreciated the effort. “Thanks. I’ll…see you around.”

“Yeah, let me know how you’re feeling later. And maybe _don’t_ have anything else to drink?”

“I don’t plan on it.”

That was what he said, at least. The self-destructive part of him reconsidered it as he sat at the small table in his room and ate his breakfast. His phone was still shoved under his pillow, but it felt like it was hovering directly in front of his face, the notification light flashing ominously, Wraith’s name attached to that email.

_Why would she message me like that?_

Elliott ate as much as he could manage. He stashed the rest in his mini fridge. He stood by the bed and stared intently at his pillow.

_It’s probably about last night._

The thought was not reassuring. Even if the message could bring closure, what if it was the painful kind? Some kind of retraction of her confession, an email that started, _Hey, sorry about last night, I was drunk, I didn’t mean it, I hope I didn’t get your hopes up…_

But what if it didn’t?

What if it was the exact opposite of that?

Shit, the more he thought about it, the more that felt almost worse. What had Chris used to joke about? _The mortifying ordeal of being known?_ He’d been the only one to get it when Elliott had talked about feeling like other people had a different idea of you than you did, and how completely freaky that was. _Damn,_ Elliott missed him. He missed all of them. Mom was great and all, but right now, he wanted advice from his _brothers._

Pain and grief stabbed through him. Elliott took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes, trying to push past the tears starting to form. If he was emotional when he was drunk, it was somehow worse when he was hungover. _Breathe, Elliott, come on. You can’t fall apart like this. What would they say?_

That was a good question. What _would_ they say about this?

They’d probably give him all kinds of grief, to be honest. That was what having multiple older brothers was like—they liked to give you grief about _everything_. But once they were done making fun of him, the advice would start.

_You can’t hide from it forever. Better to know than not._

That was what Miles had told him when he’d been too afraid to actually read his report card in high school. He hadn’t done as badly as he’d thought, and knowing _had_ taken the weight off his chest.

_Weren’t you just complaining that you’re sick of maybes?_

That was very true. As much as he hated to admit it…

Elliott took a deep breath, reached under his pillow, and pulled out his phone. And, before he had too much time to second-guess himself, he opened the email.

The email itself was brief: _Sorry about last night. Wanted you to hear this from me but I still don’t feel so great. Hope this explains things. Sorry again. –Wraith_

There was a video attachment.

_…huh_.

That raised a lot of questions. Questions that, he had a feeling, would be answered in the video. In a way, that little file was a relief; it was novel enough that his curiosity overrode his fear.

_Mostly_ overrode his fear. But, it was enough.

He took a deep breath, braced himself, and opened the file.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit notes! Briefest summary of how this was originally going to go: angst central, basically, Elliott wakes up the next morning super bummed out about being rejected, decides to go back to Solace to spend time with his mom. Crypto runs into him on his way to the spaceport (keep in mind, in this version of events, Crypto hadn't seen him wasted the night before) and helps him with his bags. At some point, Elliott (who is still assuming all the wrong things) tells Crypto that Wraith is a nice girl and a lot of people really like her, and hopefully he gets that. Crypto is understandably baffled, but doesn't work it out until an extra part of Wraith's chapter that got cut where she and Path go looking for Elliott BUT he's already left the planet by then. Crypto sees how upset she is, puts two and two together, and tells HER that she needs to sort this out because Elliott thinks they're in love and he wants no part of that. That's when she gets the idea to send him a video message, though in the original version there are some...roundabout ways it gets to him? The idea I was going to go for before I trashed the whole thing involved Ashwin delivering it for her, and also would've written him out of the plot of these fics in general. BUT that changes when I did the re-writes, so you guys get to see him a bit longer. ;)
> 
> (Actually, I've since thought of ways he could interact with Certain Other Simulacrum that would tie into my Titanfall fics and make for some ~juicy~ reading, so there's that.)


	19. Chapter 19

“Is it recording?”

“I believe so.” Pathfinder angled her phone to stare into it before pointing it back at her. “It’s filming!”

“Okay.” Wraith took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and looked into the phone’s camera. “Hey, Elliott.”

She hadn’t exactly planned what she was going to say—she had an idea of what she _should_ say, but nothing beyond that. Part of her wished she’d written down a script. Maybe that would make things easier. But she’d already started the video. If she stopped now, she might not be able to start again.

“About last night…I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did. I was going to tell you something else…the thing I’m telling you right now, actually, but I guess I jumped the gun.” She took a deep breath. “There are things you don’t know about me, Elliott. Things I should’ve told you a long time ago… _especially_ before I told you about how I feel.”

Her hands were shaking. She clasped them in her lap.

“The reason I go by my stage name is…I don’t know my real name. I don’t remember anything about myself from before ten years ago. I woke up in a mental hospital in IMC space. I couldn’t remember who I was, how I had gotten there… _any_ of it. And I heard things. Voices. I thought…maybe something was wrong with me, maybe I should have been there, but…” She smiled bitterly. “Well, I can’t say I’m completely mentally stable. But I wasn’t schizophrenic, and they weren’t trying to help me.

“This is the part that’s hard to believe, but I promise I’m not lying. Something happened, something during the time I can’t remember. It’s why I can go into the void, why I know things I shouldn’t know. I can hear voices. Other versions of myself. It’s complicated to explain, but…every choice we make creates a new version of this timeline. When I’m in the void, I can see into the other timelines…and when they’re in the void, they can see into mine. We warn each other. Look after each other. And sometimes I can…see things in my dreams, things from the future, or…not _our_ future, but one of theirs, and if there’s some overlap, I can use it to help me here.”

She smiled ruefully. “I know, it’s a lot to take in. Sometimes I still don’t know how it works, and I’ve been living with it.” She rubbed at the scars on her palms as she continued. “The point is…I realized that the doctors, if they _were_ really doctors, weren’t trying to help me. They were trying to study me. So, I escaped. I got out, I ran and I kept running. At first, I was just trying to stay away from them, but after a while I wanted answers. I wanted to know how I ended up like this. Why those people were holding me. That’s why I joined the Apex Legends competition. King’s Canyon was built on an old IMC base and the Syndicate has used a lot of their infrastructure or other things. I thought, maybe…”

She had been _so sure._

“I haven’t found anything yet. I thought…maybe that lab they unearthed last season would be something, but I didn’t get enough time to look before they brought us here.” Frustration marred her voice as she spoke. “Other than that, it’s been nothing but…dead ends and all the same questions.”

Her chest ached; she had to stop to breathe again. When she spoke, she was surprised to hear tears creeping into her voice. “You and Path are pretty much the only good things to happen to me in all of this.”

Pathfinder’s display rapid-fire switched from an exclamation point, to heart eyes, and then to concern. He stepped forward, starting to lower the phone; Wraith shook her head. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

She wasn’t, but she had to finish the video before she really broke down.

“I meant what I said last night. I do care about you. Maybe _love_ was a bit much, but…I really do care about you, Elliott. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I wanted to be honest with you in case you did. It wouldn’t be fair of me to go ahead with anything while there was so much of myself you didn’t know about. And…so much that neither of us know about.”

Because she didn’t know what kind of person she’d been. What secrets she might have. What things about her past could hurt him. How he could possibly love someone so empty.

“I didn’t want there to be any lies between us before I told you. And I screwed that up, but I guess better late than never.” That wasn’t true. She laughed bitterly, then stopped to rub her eyes. “That’s…all of it. That’s what I meant to tell you last night. I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way.”

She got up, took the phone from Pathfinder, and stopped the recording. She sent it right away, not pausing to make any changes, because she’d definitely back out if she thought about it too long. When she was done, she sat down on the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands.

She should’ve felt better. She had finally unburdened all her secrets—all the secrets she knew about, anyway. He knew them on her terms, more or less, and had heard them from her mouth.

But she didn’t feel relieved. She felt shaken. Terrified. Like she’d taken another step down a road she couldn’t see.

She felt Pathfinder’s hand on her shoulder. She rested her hand over it, grateful for the comfort.

She’d take it anywhere she could get.

Of all things Elliott had expected Wraith to tell him, _I have amnesia and was held captive by the IMC under false pretenses, oh also I can see into other timelines_ was not one of them. It was so surprising that he had to watch the video again to make sure he’d actually heard it correctly.

“… _shit_.”

He had a lot of questions, but his first instinct was to find her to comfort her. He might not fully understand what was going on, but he understood enough to know that she was dealing with a _lot_. She’d been dealing with _way_ more than he ever thought, the entire time he knew her. She should know, she didn’t have to carry that alone anyone. He could _help_ , maybe, now that he had an idea of what she was looking for and why. He wasn’t sure how much help he’d really be, but…he could _try_. He cared about her. He wanted to help.

He cared about her and…

Elliott watched the video a third time.

And then a fourth.

Four re-watches helped him feel like he had a better grasp on the situation—all except for one detail. No matter how many times he listened to the last part of the video, he just couldn’t figure out why she’d been so dead set on telling him this first. Okay, on _some_ level he got it, it was kind of a lot of baggage to bring to a potential relationship and then not bring up for a while, but he got the feeling there was more to it than that.

Had she wanted to tell him this first because she thought it would…potentially change how he felt? Because she thought that he would _care?_ Because…okay he _cared,_ but he didn’t _care,_ like it didn’t change his opinion of her. Didn’t change his crush in any meaningful way.

Would she not want a relationship but just wanted to clear the air on her feelings? He didn’t _think_ that was why she said it like that, but of course, now that the thought had entered his mind, it seemed perfectly reasonable to assume.

It was at times like this that Elliott really hated his poor social skills. He wished he could just _know_ what she meant.

_You could ask her, you know_.

…that was true. He _could_ just ask her. Granted, the very thought made his stomach twist into knots, but…he _could_.

_I should talk to her anyways. Bare minimum, her backstory is kind of a thing we should talk about, for the sake of party unity._

Elliott picked up the tablet and replied to the email. _Got your video. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that for so long. That’s a lot._ It felt so hollow when he typed it out. Hopefully he’d be able to fix that when they spoke in person. At the very least, he’d be able to emote, show genuine compassion without having to freak out about word choice. _I want to talk about it if you’re feeling up to it. I’m still kind of bleh but I should be good to talk after dinner if that’s okay with you?_

Would it be better to wait until tomorrow? No, he’d chicken out if he had to wait longer than a few hours. He’d have recovered enough to talk after dinner.

He hoped.

Elliott sent the email, then lay down and tried to process what he’d watched. Tried to process what it must be like to only know the past ten years of his life… _and_ to possibly have pissed off the IMC on top of that. Elliott’s fingers drummed anxiously against his chest.

_What can I do?_ he wanted to ask her. _How can I help you?_

And, _How would you feel if I told you I felt the same way?_

It would’ve ended terribly if he’d confessed back to her last night, but part of him wished he had. Just rip that band-aid right off in a haze of alcohol. That _never_ ended badly.

His phone pinged. Elliott grabbed it as quickly as possible. It was an email reply from Wraith. _Okay,_ it said. _See you outside the cafeteria? 6 p.m._

His heart was racing as he replied, _Yeah, see you then!_

Elliott was terrified. But he was also, in a weird way, relieved. He knew what was going on now. He could think of ways he could help, or at least, offer to help.

And maybe, once he was sure she was okay…they could resolve that other thing.

He told himself that it might have to wait. He had to focus on her and her situation first and foremost. His crush could wait. But whenever they did address that…

Elliott didn’t want to be too optimistic. But he couldn’t help hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh crap what do you mean I only have one chapter left HOW IN THE HECK-
> 
> Also, there's not much with regards to changes I made when I updated the outline? Except that in the original version, Elliott offers for her to come to Solace so they can talk and also get away from prying eyes, not just meet up to talk while still at World's Edge.


	20. Chapter 20

Her mind started racing the second she hit “send.”

What should she say when she saw him? What would _he_ say? Should she wear something…?

_No._ No, that was taking it a step too far. _Should she wear something nice_ , shit. What was she, thirteen? (Had she even been the kind of thirteen year old to do that sort of thing?) Besides, even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. She only had a handful of outfits, and they were all notoriously utilitarian. Nothing that would impress someone she…

_Someone I like. You can think it now, Wraith. You told him already._

Damn it, maybe she should’ve waited until tomorrow. Her head was killing her. Wraith drank as much water as she could handle and rested as much as she could before she had to walk to the cafeteria. 6 p.m., her suggested time. Maybe she should’ve suggested later.

_No sense in second-guessing yourself. It’s already happened. You’re on the path. All you can do now is follow it._

That thought could be either comforting or terrifying. Today, it was somewhere in the middle.

On top of everything else, she also had to decide whether or not she should eat before she saw him. In the end, she elected not to, because she didn’t want to risk puking in front of him a second time in 24 hours. In her anxiety and eagerness to have this just _happen_ , regardless of the outcome, she ended up arriving early.

Elliott must have felt the same, because he was there before her.

The scarf did a good job covering up his bruises; he looked tired and run-down, but that faded quickly into happiness, then happiness tinged with dread, when he saw her. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t want to risk being late, so I…showed up early, I guess.”

“It’s okay.” That did explain how he’d gotten here before her—usually Wraith expected Elliott to be late to things. She’d just forgotten to take his chronic tardiness into account this time. Wraith was immediately glad he _had_ shown up early; even waiting for him a few minutes past six might have ramped up her anxiety enough to make her run for it. “I think we should go somewhere else…”

“Yeah, definitely. Uh, I actually know of one place that’s not too far from here?”

“Lead the way.”

He ended up leading her to one of the still-in-progress buildings and up onto the roof. Construction had stopped for the evening, and with no one there, they could make it to the top in peace. “Natalie comes up here when she’s stressed,” he explained. “She told me about it, said it’s pretty dead after 5 p.m.” He sat down on the roof, cross-legged, a respectful distance from her. “...are you…I was gonna ask if you were okay.” He laughed. “That feels like a stupid question now.”

Wraith shook her head and sat down. She was trying not to look at him directly; looking right at him would make this all so much harder. It didn’t help that the setting sun made him look softer, more like the old Elliott, the man _behind_ Mirage, and less like the tired shell that had replaced him since the incident. “It’s not,” she said. “I know, that was a lot to dump on you.”

“It must be a lot to _live_ with.”

_It’s not_ would be a lie. She was tired of keeping things from him. “I’m handling it, more or less. Most of the time. It’s been better since I joined the games, weirdly. I know that NDA bullshit isn’t painting the Syndicate in the best light, but…y’know, better the devil that has a vested interest in protecting you because you make them money than the devil that locked you up, right?”

“Well, when you put it that way, the Syndicate sounds like it’s run by absolute saints.” Wraith smiled slightly at the comment, despite her nerves. “But…seriously, is there anything I can do? I know my particular skill set is pretty niche, but if there’s anything…” Elliott trailed off; when she glanced his way, he was fidgeting anxiously, twirling the dangling end of his shoelace between his fingers as he spoke. “I just…I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

The words caught her off-guard. She didn’t know _why_ she would expect anything different from Elliott; he had more than proven himself to be a supportive friend when he knew what to do. Maybe it was because this was one of the first times someone had offered to help her while knowing the full story. People had helped her before, in and out of the games, but before him and Pathfinder…the closest was Crypto, and he only had half the story. She still wasn’t used to people knowing everything about her. She couldn’t predict how they would react.

“Thanks,” Wraith said quietly. “I don’t know if there’s much either of us can do. I got some information recently and I haven’t been able to go through all of it but… don’t know if it will be any help. It’s been a lot of nothing lately. Maybe none of the research groups in the Outlands were involved in whatever happened to me.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I _really_ thought I had something with Singh Labs. If I’d just had a few more weeks to look around…”

Elliott nodded sympathetically. “…maybe I could help you break in to King’s Canyon?” he suggested.

Wraith laughed, taken aback by the suggestion. “What?!”

“I’m serious! It could be your shot, you know? You could look around without anyone shooting at you. I know a thing or two about misdirection, you have the portals…between the two of us, we could pull it off.”

“Just the two of us? You don’t want Pathfinder to come?”

“I mean, yeah, he’d be helpful, I just feel bad making him an accessory to breaking and entering. It feels like asking a five-year-old to do your thieving for you.” Wraith laughed harder at the comment. Elliott cracked a smile, that triumphant look he always wore when he got her to laugh. “I’m only like…50% joking, by the way. I’ll totally help you break in if you want me to.”

“They said they were bringing us back there once they dealt with the wildlife problem. I think breaking in would be jumping the gun a bit. But…I appreciate the thought.” And she meant it. “I’ll keep that in mind for if they don’t let us back in soon enough.” She meant that, too. It was risky, to be sure, but it might be worth it if Talos didn’t turn up anything. “Thank you.”

Wraith paused. Unlike Elliott, she had found herself going completely still, sitting with her knees tucked up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, trying to keep herself stable. “Do you…have any questions? Anything you want to know?” she asked.

“Uhm…” Elliott hesitated. She caught a glimpse of his eyes darting to her, then away. “You said…it’s been ten years? What were you doing before you came here?”

“Odd jobs at first, whoever was okay with not looking too closely at my paperwork. I managed to get to some border planets between IMC and Militia space, then moved to the Outlands. I’d go to a settlement, get a job, make some money, move on to the next settlement, then go to the next planet when I ran out of settlements. Rinse, repeat. Eventually I got to Solace. I saw what was going on with Apex Legends and realized where they were holding it. I thought it might be what I was looking for, so…”

“You did a year in the Outland Renegades before you qualified for Apex,” Elliott finished. “That part I remember.” Of course he knew about that part. He’d probably read up on her after they ran into each other in their first match. “And nobody else knows about this? You haven’t told anyone?”

Wraith shook her head. “I didn’t think it was safe. It’s just you and Pathfinder now. Well…Crypto knows I’m looking for something, but not for what.” Speaking of… “Just to be clear, I have never had feelings for Crypto.”

“I gathered that from your video. And…him showing up at my place to lecture me about it.”

“Wait, he _what?_ ”

“Yeah, something about how he didn’t want to be part of a love triangle that didn’t exist. I guess I freaked him out last night?” Elliott tried to shrug it off, but his embarrassment was clear. “Sorry about that by the way. I just…really thought, y’know, you two had started hanging out and he’s all _cool_ and _mysterious_ or whatever…”

Wraith had the sudden, inexplicable urge to laugh. It just all seemed so _ridiculous,_ though she could almost understand the logic once Elliott laid it all out. And it wasn’t like Crypto was unattractive. He just…wasn’t the one she was interested in.

“I barely know him,” Wraith pointed out. “And I know this is a rich coming from me, but it’s kind of hard to get close to someone when they’re so secretive.”

“Dark and broody thing doesn’t do it for you?”

Wraith laughed quietly. “No. I think…I think you know my type.”

Had she really just said that out loud? She knew she’d already admitted to liking him, but it still felt dangerous to say aloud.

“…uhm, yeah…about that.”

_Oh, no_.

Wraith briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah?” she asked. She gripped at her arms to hide the shake in her hands. _Breathe, Wraith, breathe…_

“When you…wanted me to know all of this about you before you told me how you felt…were you worried I wouldn’t like you because of it? Like it’d change my opinion of you?”

It sounded stupid when she heard _him_ say it. “Yeah,” she admitted finally. “I kept something pretty big from you…I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

“Oh.” Elliott hesitated. Wraith heard him take a deep breath, then blurt out, “Because…it doesn’t. It really doesn’t. I mean, that’s a lot to take in, but…it doesn’t really change what I know about you, right? Aside from you being an amnesiac…” She heard him move closer. “…you’re still you, from where I’m sitting. Just…you with a tragic backstory. And honestly, at this point, I assume everyone in this place has a tragic backstory.”

Wraith wasn’t sure why that comment rattled her so much. As she mulled over it, her mind fixated on one comment: _You’re still you. You’re still you._

Was she? It would be nice to think she was, but she didn’t _know_. As she mulled over that thought, Elliott kept talking. “And…and if your past is different, so what? It really only matters who you are now. And who you are now is puh, pretty great. Actually…you’re amazing. I’ve…I’ve always thought you’re amazing. And…” He closer yet again, still far away enough to be respectful, but close enough that it felt like he was sitting right next to her. “…I’ve always…always thought you were beautiful.” _What?_ “And amazing, did I say amazing? I already said amazing. Point being…”

He trailed off. Wraith nearly felt her heart _stop_ at the pause. “Point being?” she asked finally, unable to handle the tension.

“Point being… _shit_. Point being…” Elliott moved again, this time so he was sitting right in front of her. He was trying to make eye contact. Wraith tried to reciprocate, but it was _so hard_ when he was looking at her _so earnestly._ “…I’m bad at… _words_ , in general, you know that, but…” He took a deep breath. “I…I know I’m just an idiot, and I know I put up a front, but…I really like you, and if you wanted to, to try giving… _us_ a go, I’d really like that. I don’t know if you’re up for a, a relationship with everything you have going on, b-but if you are, and if you feel the same way, I…I…” He stopped. Swallowed. “Damn it. I’m sorry, I thought I knew what I wanted to say…”

Wraith took his next pause as a chance to re-run what he’d said. _You’re amazing. I’ve always thought you were beautiful. I’d really like to give us a go.._

How could he say that? How could he _not care?_ How could he not see the gaping hole in her life? She saw it every damn time she looked in the mirror; sometimes it was all she _could_ see. She thought he’d see it too if he knew, but…but all he saw was her. It was everything she could’ve wanted to hear from him.

That, she realized, was what terrified her so much. Whenever she had what she wanted from him, it had only been a dream. Just her mind filling in the blanks, providing what she had been longing for deep down but been too afraid to face. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d fallen asleep while trying to shake the worst of her hangover, that this was just a dream of what _could be_ , of what _had been_ in another timeline but may not be for her…something just within reach but _just out of her grasp…_

“Wraith? Wraith, hey…”

Elliott hesitantly moved beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He made a startled noise when she leaned into the embrace, burying her face in his chest, suddenly trembling. His embrace tightened as she clung to his shirt, becoming a comforting hug. It pushed her back into her body, easing away some of that horrible, dreamlike feeling that had seized her. That pressure, that comfort, was her first clue that this was real.

She was crying. She hadn’t realized she’d started crying. That was her second clue. Something told her that if this was a dream, she wouldn’t be reacting like this. It felt too much like _her_ , like the culmination of the path she’d followed until now. Not a replay of someone else’s path.

This was real. It was happening.

“I’m sorry,” Elliott said. He sounded frantic, even a little afraid. “I’m sorry, I don’t…I didn’t mean…”

“No,” Wraith managed to gasp out. “No, it’s not…it’s not you…” She pulled away enough to wipe her eyes. “I think I’ve been holding onto that for a while.”

That was the only explanation she could think of—that she had been bottling up so much that letting one thing go let _all_ of it go. Her feelings for Elliott, the truth about her past, and her complete lack of friends before then. Elliott’s confession. Pathfinder’s kindness. Crypto and Ashwin and Lifeline’s kindness. All of it came crashing down all at once.

And now she was crying in Elliott’s arms. Not exactly how she expected this would go.

“It’s been a really weird week,” she added with a tearful laugh.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Elliott had leaned back, but kept one hand on her shoulder. The concern in his eyes was obvious. “Uhm…was that too much? I’m sorry if I was, I just thought…I don’t know.”

“No, no, it wasn’t too much. I’m…I’m glad you told me.” Wraith sniffed. “I had no idea.”

“Well…I was kind of trying to keep it a secret. When I…guess I didn’t need to…?”

She could hear the real question he was asking. It wasn’t something she’d planned for. She probably should have. If it was possible in other timelines, it was possible in hers. But it hadn’t _felt_ that way. And now…

“No. I guess you didn’t need to.”

Wraith took a deep breath and unfolded herself, moving from that curled up position to a cross-legged, upright one. She knew where she stood now. Might as well go for it. “So…are you going to ask me out?” she asked.

Elliott’s face flushed red. She saw that same stunned disbelief she’d been feeling only a second ago. “Uh…I mean, y-yeah, if that’s what you want me to…”

“I do.” No sense in avoiding it any longer. “I’d like it a lot, actually. And…I think we’re both free for the next few weeks, yeah?”

Elliott laughed. As he did, the nerves in his eyes gave way to relief. “Yeah, you might say that. I mean...I said I’d go visit my mom, but…” He perked up, then hesitated. “Okay, uhm, I was gonna suggest…”

“You want me to come to Solace, too?”

“I mean…you don’t have to meet my mom or anything, I know that’s kind of intense, but…might be good to get off-planet for a while.”

“I think you’re right.” There would still be people familiar with the games on Solace, to be sure, but with most of the attention having shifted to Talos, it would be easier to hide. And now that she thought about it, she should probably check up on her off-site apartment. No one had dusted it in a while. “And you know the area pretty well, right?”

“Definitely.” Some confidence had crept into his voice—not the overblown false confidence he showed as Mirage, but something more genuine. She liked to hear it. “Anywhere you want to go?”

Wraith smiled. “Surprise me. You’re good at that.”

He always had been.

Maybe it was part of the reason she liked him so much.

“Okay,” Elliott said. Carefully, almost hesitantly, he held out his hand to her. “I’ll make it memorable.”

She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “I promise I won’t keep this kind of thing to myself from now on if you won’t?” she said.

That got another laugh out of Elliott. “Yeah. Deal. Think it works better that way.” Then, after a pause, “Okay, so, this isn’t the date, but did you eat? Because I didn’t eat and now that I’m done being terrified I’m actually starving…”

So was she now that he said it. “I could eat.” He stood up, using their impromptu hand-holding to help her to her feet. “We can talk about travel plans.”

“Sounds good.”

She happened to catch sight of Crypto as they entered the cafeteria. He glanced from Elliott to her, then mouthed, _About time_ to her. She rolled her eyes in response. It was a bit strange, thinking that he knew, but…well, she he wasn’t going to tell anyone. She could live with it.

Elliott sat with her. They discussed travel plans, then the rumors of rule changes that Elliott had heard about via Ashwin Narita, then what King’s Canyon must look like without the regular fights. They didn’t try to hold hands again, or elaborate much about travel plans beyond the basics, but there was something new in Elliott’s eyes when he smiled at her.

It felt strange to have everything settle into place so quickly and quietly—but then again, maybe not. They’d already been on that path; all the pieces there, everything laid out and ready. They just had to be willing to open up—the hardest part, apparently.

But they were there now, at the start of a new path. Time to see where it led. It was difficult to say where things would go from there, but…something told her this was right.

And her gut feelings were rarely wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to everyone for your support! It meant a lot to me and really helped me with the writing. :3
> 
> Second, don't worry, more IS coming (including how that first date goes). I don't know when, exactly, but it will be coming. I might take a quick break to work on some Titanfall stuff (which will be relevant to stuff in THIS series so you might want to check it out, wink wink), and I also started a few things that aren't Miraith but ARE Apex so I might finish up those just to get them done, but I do have more Miraith content planned. This ship is my only solace at the moment since the lore is Vexing me (if you follow me on tumblr you know what's up).
> 
> Third, did I say thank you? Because seriously, thank you, this is the longest fic I've finished in ages and it would've taken MUCH longer without you guys cheering me on. I hope you have a good day. <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as screechthemighty for general blogging and respawncinematicuniverse for all my Apex and Titanfall content. Title and summary lyrics are taken from "Scared" by Delta Rae.


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